


On Vacation

by Jay_Lee_Leuis, vaderade



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Background Relationships, Crossover, Earthborn (Mass Effect), Gen, Mass Effect 2, Paragade (Mass Effect), Post-Dragon Age II, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Rating May Change, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jay_Lee_Leuis/pseuds/Jay_Lee_Leuis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaderade/pseuds/vaderade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana works too much, enough that even when The Divine wearily issues her an order to take a vacation she decides instead to simply take her work to the field. When following a lead on a supposed rogue agent, she never bargained for this much trouble.</p><p>Set before the events of Inquisition and during the events of Mass Effect 2. Shitty Time Travel style crossover, Para(gator)ade Shep, squint and you might see some background pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fic beta'd by a bunch of our friends, who I don't know the AO3 names of— thanks so much to all of you though! Your support means the world!  
> We're desperately in love with time travel and crossovers. It probably shows.

The most Holy and Serene Divine Justinia V sat with her Left Hand in a private chapel, her gentle face lined with worry. They met weekly before the ever-watchful eyes of the Maker and his Bride, indulging in the calm and quiet, oftentimes unspeaking and unmoving.

Today they held the silence together in the hands folded in their laps and eyes uplifted to the thick and ornate panes of stained glass surrounding them— to the effigy of Andraste herself, ever triumphant and ever serene. This was a space of warmth and peace. Which likely was the reason she and Justinia frequently broached matters to each other here, beyond the walls' keen ears and keyholes' peering eyes.

But the relative peace was shallow, as was the quiet, laden with whatever burden the Holy Woman had to relieve from her hunched shoulders to lay at Leliana's feet.

      "My child…" began Justinia at length, squinting her watery eyes, "Leliana, you need a break."

      Leliana blinked, surprised. “Most Holy, I… I am needed here, am I not? My work cannot carry on without me.”

      “You know as well as I that your subordinates are more than capable, Leliana,” Justinia replied. “But that was not my point.”

      “I don’t understand,” Leliana said.

      Justinia sighed. It fell heavily on her subordinate.

       “ _You_ ,” she said with gentle exasperation, “are working too hard. Leliana, you’re exhausting yourself. You don’t sleep, you forget to eat. If your work truly needs you so badly, then it needs you at your best.”

Leliana recognized this mood; the Divine was not going to be easily dissuaded. As much as Leliana wished to voice just how small of an issue this was, how she would not have taken on a job she could not handle, it would be far easier to acquiesce than continue to argue.

Besides, there was the matter of her agent who had disappeared somewhere near the Western Approach, a potentially dangerous leak if he had gone rouge. It was not something that would ordinarily require her personal attention, but if Justinia were to insist that Leliana leave her post anyway… No one was in charge of what she did with her free time.

      Leliana cast her eyes downward in a show of penitence. “Perhaps you are right,” she said slowly, contemplatively, “I could take a few weeks’ vacation. I have quite missed travelling…“

* * *

The sun beat down mercilessly – Leliana was cooking in her leather armor, and Leigh likely was too. It had been weeks of hard travel to the Western Approach, most of it on foot, and the weather had been exceptionally unpleasant. The first few days had brought endless, soaking rain — almost preferable to this oppressive heat, but at least their gear was dry. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had made the journey for pleasure. Despite what she had told Justinia.

      “We must be close,” Leliana said, briefly consulting the map. It seemed they had been clambering over rocks all day. “I think another mile of this, perhaps. We can set up camp once we find the entrance. I don’t want to spend any more nights in the Deep Roads than we have to.”

      Leigh nodded. “Will we see any darkspawn, do you think?”

      Leigh’s tone was deliberately casual, but Leliana heard the undercurrent of worry. “I hope to avoid them,” she said. “If we don’t stray too far below the surface, we should be fine. If we’re careful.”

      “But you’ve fought them before, haven’t you?”

Of course it had been too much to hope that she could avoid curious questions for the entire journey. This question was innocent enough, but Leliana knew well enough where it would lead. You fought in the blight, didn’t you? With the Hero of Ferelden? Weren’t you…  _ with _ the Hero of Ferelden?

      “I have fought them, yes,” Leliana replied. “We should keep moving.”

It was hours before they reached the entrance. Leigh, fortunately, refrained from asking any more questions. 

The next day began uneventfully enough. The sun shone down as brightly as before, and the heat had already begun to creep in as they made their way to the entrance.

      “At least it’ll be cool in the caves,” Leigh remarked. 

Leliana said nothing, just looked to the sky with a brief prayer before ducking inside.

They would see none of the horrors that lay deep underground, she was sure. Not here, where cave-ins made the path treacherous even for darkspawn. But those memories clung to the walls all the same: each arch was a gaping maw, every shadowed corner harbored oozing flesh, and every gust of wind carried whispers of the dead. But this wasn’t Orzammar. The Blight was over and gone, and her dear Warden gone with it. She wouldn’t find Tabris at her back with a steadying hand on her shoulder, and all her lantern revealed in the shadows was stone and dust.

      “Watch out!”

Leigh’s shout roused Leliana from her memories, but she heard the rumble of stone too late. She propelled herself forward and hit the ground hard as the stone ceiling crumbled around them. The cave-in had stopped as suddenly as it began. Leliana sat up cautiously as dust settled all around and only a few stray pebbles stirred. She wasn’t harmed beyond a few bruises.

      “Leigh!” She called. There was no reply. It was dark - the lantern was out, of course. Broken. Leliana scrambled for the torch in her pack and managed to light it with shaking hands. Leigh was nowhere to be seen.

      “Sister Leliana!” The shout was muffled, but she could make it out from somewhere in the pile of rocks behind her.

      “I’m here, I’m all right.” Leliana replied. “Are you hurt?”

      “I’m fine! I managed to get clear.”

Thank the Maker. Leliana took a breath and looked around her. The entrance, she realized with a sinking feeling, lay on Leigh’s side of the cave-in. All ahead was darkness.

      “I’ll go for help,” came Leigh’s call from the other side. They had come to the same conclusion, it seemed.

They were days from the nearest settlement. Help would be long in coming and they both knew it.

      “I’ll go further in,” Leliana said. “We’re near the surface. There may be another way out.” Her torch guttered. She didn’t have long. Leliana set off into the darkness without waiting for a reply.

Leliana wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking when the torch went out. Hours felt like days in the Deep Roads – that much had stayed the same. She knew she should wait for help. She had enough food to last a week still, and Leigh would be back. It was likely riskier to walk through these ruins aimlessly. There wasn’t a speck of light, and she could easily walk right off the edge of a cliff. But to stop, to wait alone in the dark, would be to invite madness. She had to keep moving. That was how they had gotten through it before. One foot in front of the other, without thought or feeling. She could do it again, even if this time there would be no hand grasping hers, no whispered assurances in the dark. She could keep going.

Leliana almost didn’t realize it when light began to seep into the caves. She saw her hand held in front of her, then the wall of the cave, then the path ahead, brighter than behind. Light. She had to be near an exit. It was a cold light, and dim, seeming almost tinged with blue in the dark of the cave. Night must already have fallen – how long had she been in these caves? At least there was no sign of darkspawn.

She rounded the corner, and stopped dead in her tracks, staring. It wasn’t an exit. That thought became her entire world. It wasn’t an exit. There  _ was  _ no exit. There was… she wasn’t sure what there was.

The cool light glowed, suspended between two huge prongs that reached upward through the cave floor. It glowed steadily, unwavering, unlike any natural source she could think of. Leliana took a step closer. Whatever this was, it was probably more dangerous, she knew. But she would not go back into the darkness behind her. She could not.

She ventured one step, then another, reaching out cautiously. Her hand touched the light. It  _ was _ just light, insubstantial and impossible. Then there came a sudden gut-wrenching wrongness and a blast of heat as her feet were pulled from under her.

When Leliana had been a young girl, she had once fallen from a window in Lady Cecile’s estate; a large picture window overlooking the gardens. She’d had a habit of sitting in the open window with her feet swinging out in the open air. It was inevitable, really, that one day she would lose her balance and tip over the side. Even now, after every brush with death that her life had brought her, Leliana still remembered that moment. Panic, the shock of impact, and finding herself very suddenly lying in a flowerbed with one leg twisted the wrong way beneath her. It had all been over so fast that the fall itself had been lost to memory almost immediately.

This fall was nothing like that. Punishing heat blasted past her, almost burning her face before she shielded herself with her arms. She was suspended in light, blinded - she could have been a mile or an inch from the ground and not known the difference. This must be what it felt like to die.

_ Maker, take me to your side, _ she prayed –-

  
      

And then it was over.

Leliana was thrown to the ground with an all-too-solid jolt. It was cold and hard, but there was blue sky above. Maybe she wasn’t to die yet. She scrambled to her feet, trying to force her eyes to focus. There was a figure stepping towards her slowly, a woman, her face surprised and… blue.

      “Stay back!” Leliana scrambled backwards, reaching for the knife that was, luckily, somehow, still strapped to her side.

She drew it and the woman stopped. But she wasn’t alone. There was a crowd gathering, a crowd of creatures, demons maybe, but not like any she’d ever seen. Voices shouting, questioning, but she couldn’t make out a single word.

      “Stay back,” she said again, her own voice sounding hoarse and weak. She could barely keep her feet, and her vision was grey with pain. She was bruised and burned, worst along her arms where she’d shielded her face. The scent of singed leather and linen filled her nostrils. 

Suddenly, a new figure parted the crowd and walked slowly up to her, palms up. Human, thank the Maker: a muscular, red-haired woman.

      “Why don’t you just put that down?” she said mildly.

      Leliana tightened her grip on the knife. “Who are you?”

      “The name’s Commander Shepard. Now, drop the knife and we can talk.”

      No chance of that. “How did I get here?”

      “Well, you see,” Shepard began in a measured tone. “The statue behind you is actually—” 

She lunged forward and struck Leliana. The knife clattered from Leliana’s hand as pain overtook her vision. She fell to her knees. Darkness came over her like a wave, and finally she collapsed, senseless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The best way to make friends is by punching them, confirmed.  
> \- For lore consistency, because we're sticklers when it comes to our work: regardless of what we all think of the ending to the third game, the relay in London presumably connects to the Citadel, and the only relay on the Citadel that we know of is the Conduit. The only explanation is that the Conduit is a two-way relay. So really the thing we bs'd coming up with this is why Little Undeveloped Thedas even has a connection at all— perhaps we'll explore this part of our setup sometime!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new addition to the crew.

Shepard wondered how she always managed to rope herself into these sort of situations. She was in Huerta Memorial Hospital, languidly flicking through dossiers while sitting by the bed of the woman who came hurtling out of the Conduit not half an hour ago. She still had not woken up.

Not a wonder either, seeing as she had come through a relay without any substantial sort of protection. The woman had been wearing an almost medieval getup. She was covered head to toe in in iron – she was wearing chainmail, actual _chainmail_ – but forget that even, the woman had around six knives strapped to her, along with a longbow and a quiver of arrows. Not a modern hunting or competition bow either: it was a finely carved piece of dark wood, strung with a thick cord of what Shepard assumed to be gut. It was a finely made weapon, nowhere in the realm of a reproduction. Her arrows too— razor-sharp points fastened to the shafts by hand? If this was some sort of costume it sure was overly elaborate.

What was a wonder, however, was that the stranger hadn't been hurt in any way medi-gel couldn't solve. Coming through a zero-mass effect field with only some nasty scrapes, bruises, and severe burns on the way out was lucky to say the least, if nothing short of a miracle. It was possibly the greatest wonder besides the fact that she had come through the Conduit at all, which was a whole other can of worms.

The implications of the woman’s arrival were sure to send shockwaves across all the Citadel's wards if Shepard couldn't contain the damage somehow. If the Conduit was accessible from more places than Ilos, feasibly the other ends could be scattered all across the galaxy— and who was to say how many ends there even were? She flipped on her tablet to a galaxy map as she contemplated the matter. The currently active secondary relays had anywhere between two to five connexions to different relay outlets. Unsettling, given that if the Citadel's Conduit was now proven secondary, it likely would be even easier for a group, like Saren's two years ago or the Collectors now, to do a Reaper's bidding on the station.

And losing the Citadel… Shepard was not a nervous person by any means, but it didn't make the thought any less worrisome. She clicked the tablet off and looked over to the hospital bed –- the injured woman was just beginning to stir. 

_Well,_ Shepard thought, _as usual, no time to lose._

"Hey there." she said casually as she walked over to the bed. "Feeling any better? You were hurt pretty badly."

The woman seemed groggy until Shepard had begun speaking. She stiffened then, glancing sourly in Shepard's direction.

"Who are you?"

"Commander Shepard." She said as she reached the woman's bedside. The woman stiffened further, fixing her gaze intensely on Shepard. Shepard did her best to shrug it off. "I take it you remember meeting me earlier?"

The woman said nothing at first, merely furrowed her brows. Not much of a talker, Shepard figured. But then she opened her mouth to speak.

"Yes, not fondly. Who are you really?" the sharp-eyed woman snapped.

Shepard grimaced. This stranger was examining her? She didn't expect that right off the bat, considering how fuddled the sedative usually rendered people. The woman certainly knew how to summon an air of authority. Not that she was incapable of pushing back, of course. Being pushy was a particular skill of hers.

"I'm surprised you don't recognise the name of the only human Spectre," Shepard answered with a derisive snort. "I'm hoping you'll forget about me knocking you out since I'm also the person who dragged you to the hospital. And who has been keeping C-Sec from arresting you for the past few hours."

“Is it gratitude you're expecting?”

The woman was trying to put Shepard on the defensive, and with someone else it might even have worked.

“Yes.” She folded her arms, matching the woman stare for stare. “But I'm willing to settle for a name and an explanation.”

The woman sat up gingerly in the hospital bed. “My name is Leliana,” she said. “And I have, I suspect, less knowledge of how I was brought here than you do.”

Shepard turned away, making a show of picking up the dossiers she'd been reading earlier, while keeping a surreptitious eye on Leliana. Leliana's steely-eyed stare vanished, her eyes darting around the room. Her gaze lingered a split second longer on the C-Sec officers standing impatiently beyond the glass wall, Shepard noticed.

“So, you've seen our would-be guests.”

Leliana didn't challenge the observation. “What are they, exactly?” she asked.

“Law enforcement,” Shepard said. “They do have a warrant for your arrest, you know. They keep trying to wave it my face.”

She motioned over her shoulder to the locked door, where one of the officers was peering into the room. He was somewhat short for a turian, his plates a pale gray like hoarfrost, with deep red markings across his brow and cheeks-- Shepard recognised him as one of those that Garrus had been acquainted with a couple of years ago. It appeared he was a sergeant now, or something of that nature, judging by the uniform. Shepard did recall Garrus muttering about how insufferable this fellow was, and this experience was merely proving it. The turian called out something sharply, voice obscured by the glass. She rolled her eyes, half considering letting him in just to bark at him a bit.

Leliana appeared to be somewhat dissatisfied with Shepard's answer, but didn't say anything to the effect, content with merely attempting to peer over Shepard's shoulder to get a better look at the officer at the door. Her expression was that of a controlled neutrality, the kind one trained to remain hard even in the most shocking of situations. Shepard knew it well; it was the same one that she was forced to wear herself all too frequently.

But Shepard did note how Leliana paused, eyes wide, when she finally got a clear view. Were it not for the tightly pressed line of her mouth, for that split second the woman might almost have looked childish in her amazement, as if she had never encountered a turian before. But the moment was fleeting, and then gone. Leliana fixed her stony gaze back on Shepard.

“A warrant.” Leliana repeated, blasé. "As much as I enjoy this game, what is it that you actually want, Commander?"

"I have a lot of questions for you, Leliana, but I have a feeling you won't answer any of them." Shepard crossed her arms. "Which is fine by me, but C-Sec is not so charitable. You can get arrested here and spend the rest of your life floating in cryo on some prison ship, or you can join my crew until I figure out where you're from."

"And how, exactly, are you any different from them?" Leliana retorted sharply. She did not raise her voice, but she fixed a frown on Shepard, her brow furrowed. She was angry? Perhaps she felt cornered? Shepard had thought she had laid this out sympathetically enough.

She was about to recalculate and redouble her efforts when the door suddenly slid open. Bypassed, of course— Shepard regretted not kicking them out of here before this point. The two officers walked in like they owned the place, and she smoothly placed herself between them and the bed.

"Evening, officers." Shepard said evenly. "What can I do for you?"

“What you can do, Shepard, is get out our way.” It was the officer with the red markings. Garrus' judgment was spot-on then. “You may recognize this” – Shepard took the tablet he practically shoved in her face – “as a warrant. A warrant for the arrest of the woman you've kept locked in this room. You may think the Council will indulge your refusal to cooperate like they have before, but if you insist on breaking the law--”

"Look, sergeant," she interrupted, "I'm happy that you have this warrant and all, but please don't exaggerate. The past few hours are the only time that I have ever outright refused to cooperate with C-Sec. I have even assisted in prior investigations! If you had spoken with your Captain, you would not only have been aware of that but also the fact that this matter is not at all within C-Sec's jurisdiction."

“You think so? You think just because you’re a Spectre you can just ignore the Council? Ignore the law?”

Most people knew when to quit. Poorly thought-out belligerence had clearly served the officer well in his budding career.

“I'm not ‘ignoring the Council.' I work _for_ the Council,” she explained with exaggerated patience. “I’ll let your insult slide this time. You're clearly aware that I was reinstated as a member of the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance force over a month ago. I’m using my authority as a Spectre to investigate the case myself. That's the only answer you need. If you want to complain about your bruised authority, go talk to Bailey. Or I’ll report you myself. I have no time for this."

And with much spluttering from the officers, she ferried them out of the room. As she walked back to Leliana's bed Shepard said with some exasperation: "You asked, and there you have it. That's how I'm different."

Shepard handed the warrant over to Leliana and opened her omnitool, skimming over a new message and quickly plugging in a reply. She then pushed her hair back and sat down, crossing her legs.

"Two of my friends went back to my ship to bring you some clothes, and they'll be here soon," she said. "You don't have to come with us, but if you stay here you're likely to end up having more problems with C-Sec. I'd recommend getting a ship off of here as soon as possible."

Leliana’s face was unfathomable. Shepard almost wondered if Leliana had even heard her.

"I'd further recommend coming with me on the Normandy because I can actually employ you, for one." Shepard tepidly laughed. "It's a good salary, considering the… well, considerable risks. I can outfit you and give you the best weapons, mods, and ammunition on or off the market."

Still no reaction. Shepard decided to restrategise her pitch.

"I'm also your best bet of getting home," she said more solemnly. Leliana's head quite nearly whipped to her direction. At least Shepard had her attention. "I don't know where you are from, but I'm the only other person who has ever come through the Conduit. We'll figure it out and get you back safely."

More silence from Leliana, but this time Shepard decided to wait it out. "I'll do it." Leliana said at last. "It seems to be my best option."

"Glad to hear it." Shepard said. She walked over and extended her hand to shake Leliana's.

"Welcome aboard the Normandy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elevators are less fun the first time.

Approaching the artifact in the Deep Roads was a mistake, Leliana had concluded. The events of the past day, this place, the people in it – all of it was completely beyond her ability to explain. The strangest of all perhaps was this Commander Shepard. The woman was towering, with bright scarlet hair – Leliana was willing to bet dyed – and imposingly muscular. The Commander had effectively taken Leliana prisoner, all while trying desperately to paint herself as a rescuer. Leliana knew better than to fall for it. The altercation at the hospital was conveniently timed, and too easily resolved. If Shepard hoped to gain her trust, she would have to come up with more than this pageantry of threats.

The facts remained – Leliana was weak from her injuries, wearing borrowed clothes (and the ugliest shoes she'd ever had the misfortune to encounter), she had no idea where she was, and she couldn't communicate with at least half of the inhabitants of this strange place. However the Game was played here, she was in no condition to join it. Shepard, at least, claimed she would help Leliana, so she was still likely the best option. Leliana wondered how long that friendliness would last, once they were on Shepard's ship. 

At least she was on her feet again. Shepard was taking her back to the Normandy – and Leliana was fully aware that she had no choice in the matter, for all that they could both pretend that Shepard's firm grip on Leliana's arm was simply to support her while she got her feet. And as for the fact that Shepard's other hand hadn't once strayed from the weapon at her hip as they walked out from the hospital? Well, the woman was a soldier, was she not? One could hardly expect a lifetime of such habits to vanish in an instant. 

They exited through a brightly lit hall. It was narrow, and illuminated by fine blue lines of light that somehow shot through her skin without touching her – she had barely kept from flinching away from it. Shepard lead her through the waiting room. It took a great deal of control to not stare at the multitude of monsters in the waiting room openly, but they were all so indescribably colourful and strangely shaped, unlike any sort she had ever seen. 

“You all right?” Shepard asked. 

Maybe Leliana hadn’t managed to conceal her discomfort as well as she thought. “I’m fine,” she replied shortly. Not convincing, she knew, but at least Shepard didn't seem eager to pry— not just yet anyway. 

“Good. We’ll take the elevator here.”

Apparently ‘taking the elevator’ involved stopping in front of a closed glass door. Leliana took the opportunity to observe the Commander's friends more closely. They, too, were alien in appearance, and as visually bizarre as those in the waiting room. 

The taller of the two was much like the bellicose officer, its face adorned with a striped pattern in blue, the symmetry of which was broken by healing scar tissue. The raw scars on the right side of its face were a sour combination of pinks, purples, and yellows. Painful to look at, and moreso to bear, Leliana imagined. Shepard did not seem to mind though, more content to be gossipping about the officer from earlier with this one. It laughed, the dissonant undertones of its voice sending a shiver up Leliana's spine. 

The other was far less threatening in the sense that it stood about as tall as Leliana and was easily as slim— but was more suspicious. It was covered from head to toe, in armour and swaths of densely patterned purple fabric. Perfect way to conceal a weapon, Leliana mused. She missed her own clothes. That aside, this alien was even more difficult to listen to through both the helmet and the grating wheeze of the intake. 

The door they had been waiting by opened – slid disconcertingly into the wall actually, but what was one more strange thing to add to the day she was having? They stepped forward into the small room, and it slid shut once more. There was a small jolt and Leliana nearly lost her feet as the entire room began to move upwards. Luckily it moved slowly enough that it was not hard to regain her balance, but not slowly enough to not be excruciatingly nauseating. The plates of metal in the elevator's shaft whipped by, and Leliana kept feeling as if her knees were about to buckle. It was only worse as they ascended, and she could see the ground below them— thousands, no, millions of twinkling lights below, across from, and around them. And beyond that, a glowing cloud of stars and dust, just visible beyond the wide arms of this gargantuan rock. It was dizzying, and the disorienting height made her only more ill. She kept her eyes to the floor in hopes that it would decrease the vertigo. 

The slim alien in purple said something, bright eyes winking visibly through its helm. A moment passed in awkward silence before Shepard caught her attention. 

"Well, Leliana?" the Commander asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Your clothes. They all right?" 

"Oh." Leliana cleared her throat, shifting her weight awkwardly. "More or less, I suppose." 

Shepard and her friend exchanged a shrug. The tall one rasped what might have been a whisper. Its scarred plates and skin shifted grotesquely, and Leliana was finding it increasingly difficult to mask her disgust. Shepard only nodded, smiling to her companion as the compartment’s doors opened. 

They were somewhere completely new. Shepard advised Leliana to keep close to the three of them as they exited. She followed them through a what seemed to be a shopping district, filled with bright and colourful signs. It was dark otherwise. The air pulsed with a deep, urgent beat, and Leliana was quite close to giving up whatever it was she had eaten whenever she had eaten it to some unfortunate set of bushes.

Somehow Leliana soldiered on, following Shepard with her eyes glued desperately to their feet. The music, lights, and volume of foot traffic were intense, but all thinned dramatically as Shepard lead them past a few whispering uniformed police and into a quiet hall.

Finally they had reached the ship - a ship completely unlike any other Leliana had seen. It was all gleaming metal, like everything else, and its shape was smooth and graceful, almost unnaturally so. Beyond it billowed a mass of pale glimmering clouds, reflecting light like silver dust. There was no time to enjoy the view. They walked into a small chamber, the metal door slipping shut behind them. Leliana might have found the space threateningly claustrophobic, but after the trip it had taken to get here, she found herself completely numb to her surroundings.

As in the hospital, they were once again hit with that bright blue grid of light, as a disembodied voice overhead welcomed Shepard back aboard "The Normandy." The vessel was truly gargantuan, with ceilings higher than the foyer of an Orlesian chalet, all a gleaming chrome. Many people bustled to and fro, the few that were seated punching at displays of letters and numbers. This day just continued to become stranger. 

"Hey, Commander." came a voice from behind her. 

Leliana whirled around in surprise and was met with a bit of a sceptical look from a scruffy-looking seated man in a strange hat. His thumb was conspicuously splinted. 

"Who's this?" he asked with thinly veiled sarcasm, "Wait, wait, wait, let me guess: did she follow you home?"

"Sort of." Shepard replied with an easy smile. The purple alien laughed. "I'll come by later, Joker."

"You'll know where to find me." he said as he spun his chair back around. "See ya, Tali, Garrus."

The two aliens chirped and rasped respectively, as they turned to follow Shepard across the vessel. A few of the people bustling around greeted Shepard, and she replied back cordially— none of them bothered Leliana, thankfully. They were making their way towards yet another door labelled 'elevator.' Leliana wished she had ruined some vegetation earlier. 

Shepard excused herself for a moment as she checked a set of displays, scanning over some messages before practically vaulting over a ramp to an elongated platform in the centre of the ship. As she approached, the space in front of her illuminated, suspended fantastically in the shape of a bright spiral of clouds and stars. Shepard passed her hands over and through this bank of light, plotting a trajectory over a series of points, annotated with a great many notes and names. Leliana could not see the bulk of the annotations nor what Shepard was doing with them. Shepard finished her work quickly and descended toward the elevator once again. While they waited, she exchanged some words with her assistant about picking up some materials with strange names that eluded Leliana entirely.

The metal door of this next elevator popped open with the satisfying sound of a sword being sheathed. They stepped in, Leliana furthest behind, holding white-knuckled to the railing. Luckily, this ride was much shorter and smoother. Leliana hardly noticed when they slowly began moving down. The tall one was the first to leave (with what Leliana took as a croaked farewell) to the crew deck, and it sauntered off in its odd way out and onto the ship. 

They moved down another floor before the helmed one parted from them through a door labelled 'Engineering' with a burbled word. Shepard and Leliana walked to a room labelled 'Port Cargo,' a large, spartan metal box without windows. It was truly marvellous what they did with prison cells here. Maybe she should have reconsidered getting arrested at the hospital. Leliana sat cautiously on the bed, which was surprisingly large and comfortable despite looking like a cot. Still, a cell was a cell. 

Shepard was the first to speak.

"Well, welcome aboard the Normandy. I can give you a grand tour later." she said casually. "This is the best space I could put you up in. I figured you might want your privacy.”

Leliana paused, unsure of what to say, unwilling to be thankful. Shepard, as before, did not seem to mind very much and kept speaking regardless.

"I noticed you didn't have an omnitool or extra clothes, so I left you both." she said, motioning in the table's direction. "I brought your clothes from before, even though they're in quite bad shape. Your bow is there as well, along with the quiver, and… all six of your knives." 

Shepard cleared her throat and then continued, "Anyway. The omnitool has a bunch of credits on it and translation software already installed. Feel free to do whatever you want with it. Bathrooms are on the Crew Deck, on the left when coming out the elevator." She began pacing to the door. "I should go. I've got some things to catch up on. Feel free to ask anyone if you have any questions. I'll speak with you later."

The door popped open and Shepard was finally gone. Leliana was at last alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better late than never— the both of us have been busy, so sorry for the delay! We're planning on uploading every two weeks from this point forward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since when do ships have eyes?

_It was a hot summer day. Marjolaine was teaching her the basics of combat. They used blunted blades, the flash of steel in the sunlight still thrilling, if not threatening._

_Their third round. Marjolaine pounced, fluid and fast, pinning Leliana to the ground in an instant._

_“You must take care not to become helpless,” Marjolaine said. “When fighting with knives, your enemy will kill you. When fighting with words, your enemy will be able to do anything with you.”_

_The sun was in her eyes. “And what,” Leliana replied with a smirk, “are_ you _going to do with me?”_

✢ ✢ ✢

Leliana awoke groggy. For the life of her, she could not remember when she had fallen asleep, nor for how long. Vestiges of her dream lingered in her mind, but she pushed them aside with practiced efficiency. Years had passed, Marjolaine was dead, and Leliana had learned her lesson all too well. She could spare no time dwelling uselessly on the past, not when the present brought problems of its own. 

By her estimate, it must have been several days since Leliana had been taken aboard the ship. She had spent that time mainly reading and sleeping. To tell the truth, she had not left the room much at all, having been somewhat overwhelmed by such things as the bathroom— named very misleadingly, she had noted, given the clear absence of a bath. 

When she had not been reading, Leliana’s thoughts kept turning to— of all people —Morrigan. The witch had long been gone from both her life and memories, and Leliana had not much lamented the absence. But finding herself in this foreign place, Leliana wondered if the world outside of the swamp had ever seemed this strange to Morrigan, and how often her long, pointed, haughty silences masked deep confusion. 

Nobody had intruded on her, so there was, unfortunately, nobody presently for Leliana to be pointedly silent towards. The cell was as private as Shepard had promised, if less restrictive than Leliana had expected. Not that it made any difference. A ship at sea always made a better prison than mere walls ever could. 

Why Leliana had been so graciously granted her solitude was still a mystery, but she took the opportunity to immerse herself in as much of the technology as she could. She had quite nearly finished reading the manual before having apparently fallen asleep on the book— if one could even call these odd flattened displays 'books.'

Leliana picked up the manual again. It seemed that it would be her best chance to understand anything about the world she’d found herself in. If only it were easier to make any sense of. The “omnitool” as Shepard had called it, was like nothing she had ever seen before, and there seemed almost no limit to its capabilities - or so the manual claimed. So far she had only managed to activate its ability to translate, which would prove useful. But other portions, like the current section on combat applications, for example, seemed like a vast exaggeration. The device hardly looked like anything that would be good in a fight - it was mostly made of some strange, solid light. And yet the manual claimed it could somehow create weaponry? An impossibility, but what was one more among dozens?

She refocused her attention on the paragraph she’d been reading when she fell asleep. The heading read “Calibrating the Fabrication Module.” Leliana squinted at the dense text. “But what _is_ a fabrication module?” she muttered to herself.

Leliana was alone in the room, she was sure of that. So it was quite surprising when an answering voice spoke from thin air: “The omnitool’s fabrication module is located at the front of the device-”

The voice carried on, but Leliana barely heard the answer. She turned slowly, her hand straying to the knife she’d stashed under her pillow. “Who— where are you?” she asked.

“My core intelligence is housed in a quantum blue box, located behind the medical bay,” came the voice’s calm reply. 

Leliana’s eyes landed a small translucent sphere suspended in an indent in the wall. She had wondered about the alcove’s purpose earlier. Perhaps she had found it.

“You aren’t here physically, then.” Leliana said.

“I am the ship’s AI. I am nowhere physically.”

She was talking to… some sort of eye? “Are you a spirit?”

“I am not a spirit; I am the Normandy SR-2’s Enhanced Defense Intelligence system,” the glowing sphere replied. “There is little evidence to support the existence of ghosts or spirits, although fifty-seven percent of humans have professed a belief that these beings do exist and influence the physical world from beyond the grave. This illogical belief likely stems from the inability of many sentient organic species, humanity included, to conceive of their own non-existence. I, on the other hand, find this reality quite enjoyable to contemplate.”

Leliana frowned - was that a threat?

“That was a joke.” 

Leliana couldn’t say she much enjoyed this ship-eye’s sense of humor. But before she could bring up a different line of questioning, there was a knock on the door and Shepard entered the room.

“Afternoon,” Shepard said by way of greeting. “Hope you’re starting to settle in.”

As Shepard spoke, the glowing orb collapsed into nothingness before Leliana's eyes. It was as if the strange voice and its single luminous eye had never been there at all— it disappeared as quickly as it had revealed itself. Leliana stood bewildered as Shepard approached, appraising the state of the cell. 

"Hope you've eaten. The mess finally is stocked and the food Gardner cooks isn't even half-bad." Shepard continued nonchalantly, speaking more to the air than Leliana. She wandered until she found a comfortable place on the wall to lean on. She made no attempt at eye contact, though Leliana was blatantly attempting to brand Shepard with her stare.

"Everything is fine. Why are you here, exactly?" Leliana inquired flatly. She had seen neither hide nor hair of the captain on her brief adventures beyond the confines of the hold. This visit was intentional, engineered, without a doubt, an interrogation. To what end? —Well, it was best not to beat around the bush with military types. They were all notoriously bad liars, and Leliana had often capitalised on it.

Shepard appeared surprised to be asked that question. 

"Like I said, I wanted to see how you were, if there was anything you wanted to ask me. I was making rounds anyway, and it's already been a few solar cycles since you came aboard." Shepard answered without missing a beat. 

Her posture remained relaxed, and nothing in her body language alerted Leliana to an untruth. But Leliana was certain— perhaps Shepard simply had been trained more adequately than expected. She had mentioned she was a member of some special force… or perhaps Shepard was simply unique.

"That besides," Shepard said, "I was hoping you might be willing to talk more about what happened, how you got here. The more you tell me the quicker I can get you home."

Leliana rolled her eyes. For all the friendly pleasantries, Shepard was determined to pry. However, Leliana was thankful that Shepard was so direct. Mind-games were not something Leliana had patience for at the moment. Though the Commander’s direct and seemingly sincere demeanour still seemed to conceal a set of priorities too confused to be dangerous. At least for the moment. Why should Shepard carry on so amicably when both of them had no place for something so naive and misguided?

Shepard removed a long, worn cylinder of metal from her pocket, about the length of a finger. “Mind if I smoke?” she asked. Leliana just shrugged in response. Shepard clicked something and raised the device to her lips.

“Why should I comply?” Leliana calmly replied. “You have given me no sufficient cause to tell you anything. You are wasting your time, Commander.”

Shepard exhaled a plume of smoke. The Commander took on a sinister appearance as she glowered in the cloud, with a preternatural red light shining out from the cracks in her dark skin. The room suddenly felt much smaller and colder. Leliana knew deliberate intimidation when she saw it, but the effect still sent a chill up her spine. 

“‘Sufficient cause’— You've gotta be kidding me.” Shepard’s eyes narrowed. “I understand that you're suspicious, but that's bullshit.”

What a way with words. Shepard seemed a bit low on patience. Or simply had very little to begin with today. Good. A lack of patience always lead to exploitable errors, problems in judgement.

“If you wanted to be cagey, you should really have considered that before popping out of the Citadel’s back door and then pulling out a knife on a bunch of diplomats.” Shepard continued. “You still owe me the explanation I requested before C-Sec showed up. I even gave you plenty of time to prepare any number of stories. So please,” she said with a flourish to Leliana, “start talking.”

Leliana faltered. There was no good explanation, and simply not remembering was all too obviously a pathetic lie. Shepard’s icy eyes bored into her with such intensity that she felt a cold sweat begin to break over her forehead. Her mind was swimming with potential excuses, none at all adequate enough. The truth, that Leliana wanted an explanation just as desperately as Shepard, would be unwise to reveal. It was clear that she had been brought aboard this ship because the Commander saw some use for her, and once it became apparent that Leliana could not, in fact, answer her questions– looking into the scarred face of the woman before her, Leliana did not much care for her chances. This would be a losing battle. It was in the midst of this that Shepard gently offered a bone.

“Tell me about the place you're from, Leliana.” Shepard prompted. “What's it called?”

“Orlais.” Leliana said numbly.

Shepard looked puzzled. “Orléans? In France?”

“No,” Leliana responded. “Orlais. My home country is called Orlais.”

Shepard shook her head and mumbled something along the lines of “this just gets weirder by the minute.” 

“EDI, could you search any and all records available for a location by the name of ‘Orlais?’” Shepard asked to seemingly no one.

The ship-eye suddenly rematerialized at the alcove. Startled, Leliana jumped, drawing the knife stashed beneath her pillow without a second thought.

The Commander just stood and stared, unimpressed.

Weirder by the minute.

Now _there_ was something she and Shepard could agree on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tfw the commander judges you #yikes)
> 
> I want to take a minute to thank you all so much for the support you've been giving us thus far! This is the first time either of us have put up anything for Mass Effect or Dragon Age, so every bit really means a lot to the both of us— next chapter will be out in two weeks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is overrated anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update - life gets in the way, especially when a co-author moves to another country seven time zones away. See you (hopefully) in two weeks!

Leliana encountered Shepard infrequently thereafter. The commander still stopped by on rounds, but did not press for conversation, always in a rush to move on to the next point. Leliana was glad for it; the peace gave her time to begin to understand things better.

The ship’s eye was particularly helpful in this regard. Its knowledge was highly specific and seemingly inexhaustible, like having a conversational encyclopaedia. It merely issued responses, never made any queries except for when there was a need for clarification. It was not only in the most obvious ways that things were different in this place. Ships did not necessarily refer to sea-faring vessels, flew through the sky, and apparently they now were equipped with eyes that spoke with no mouth. 

But there were even more unsettling subtle incongruities— for example, it had taken over an hour to attempt to clarify what Age they were situated in, that is, before Leliana dropped the issue. Leliana wanted nothing more than to throw something at the incorporeal eye after that conversation, especially when it mused that “an unstandardised measure, like these ‘Ages’ you have described, would render it exponentially more difficult to accurately measure time.” Leliana instead had dismissed the eye, who dutifully logged her out (another long session had been dedicated to understanding what that phrase meant).

Leliana was not over-awed by marvels, but the possibilities of this world were simply overwhelming. She had asked the eye about her injuries upon arrival— the extent was phenomenal, by the eye’s description. Hospital treatment had increased her chances of survival to near certain, “with a significant doubt of less than 1%.” Leliana had only felt somewhat fatigued, as one would in the final stages of healing. She marvelled at the lack of pain and scarring from what were seemingly gruesome injuries— her face and arms bore no trace of burns within a few days. Even spirit healing was imperfect, as Wynne had described to her on a few occasions. Leliana wondered how the treatments measured up. It all seemed almost too good to be true. 

And so did Shepard. It didn't take much expertise to figure out how to search the extranet for details of Shepard’s past – the past Shepard chose to reveal, that is. Leliana was not overly concerned with uncovering the truth. In her experience, truth often mattered less than the lies surrounding it. Commander Shepard, Saviour of the Citadel, a poor orphan who joined the military to escape hardship, survived an attack that killed the rest of her team, climbed in the ranks, and rescued the most important station in the galaxy, as well as its non-human government. And then was, conveniently, killed in an attack shortly after while on a routine patrol.

Shepard had faked her own death, it seemed, or was impersonating a beloved war hero. Leliana’s misgivings about the Commander were confirmed - no respectable figure would have reason to do either. It was gratifying to learn that her doubts in Shepard were not baseless, but Leliana would have to proceed carefully. There was something mysterious working in the background.

The eye had already revealed that the group Shepard served was independent from the Alliance – the loose organization of various powers which Shepard has served before. Shepard’s allegiance was now— ostensibly —with this new power. Cerberus, the eye called it. Shepard had to be double crossing one side or the other. Either way, both sides would want to keep tabs on her actions… and in that gap of knowledge there was opportunity.

Contacting the Alliance was too outright risky. Though Shepard was certainly not a trustworthy source, Leliana still heeded the warning the Commander had given her about C-Sec when they first met. Leliana feared the involvement of any official channels— they tended to place far too much importance on upholding the law. This private group would restrict her less, she surmised, making for a better get-away. If she had to eventually play more sides of this equation, she could inform the military officials or police about Cerberus' actions— put herself forth as the innocent victim of a savage hand, when she held the cards in the first place. Better not to talk to the officials first and leave more options for later. Now it was time to open up a dialogue.

It was with this thought in mind that Leliana approached Miranda Lawson. She was glad the eye was so forthright. She had merely asked who the immediate representative of Cerberus was on this ship. It had lead her straight to the chink in Shepard's armour. When this was all done, she would have to thank it. 

Leliana knocked on the door to the XO's office before entering. Miranda glanced up, briefly, from the holographic interface in front of her.

"Ah. You must be our reclusive new crewmember. Zaeed pitched a fit big enough to camp in over being evicted to the shuttle bay." Miranda said, fingers still moving furiously across the keys. Leliana found Miranda’s accent strange and unplaceable. It was almost Fereldan, but somehow more nasal. Less coarse. Entirely foreign to her, in any event.

Miranda finished her typing and shut off the display. "Leliana, is that correct?" Miranda asked, motioning for her to take a seat. "It's a pleasure." The look she gave Leliana was one that reminded her of a cat that had just nabbed a songbird in the garden. So satisfied. She disliked it immediately.

"The pleasure is mine, Miss Lawson." Leliana replied, "I have been experiencing some shock since coming aboard, otherwise I would not have delayed our meeting. The Commander tells me that you are quite a capable second-in-command."

"Does she now?" Miranda said with some amusement. "That's good to hear. I work very hard to make sure that we succeed at what we do." It was only worse when she smiled. Miranda would do well in Orlais. "Now, is there something I could do for you?" More like, 'You wouldn't come up here without something to ask me, would you?'

"Yes, there is." Leliana said firmly. "I have heard that you are the one that I should speak to about getting in touch with Cerberus." 

That certainly got Miranda's attention. She seemed surprised. "You're interested? My…" she cleared her throat and tapped at her omnitool to silence her intercom. "…this is unexpected. However, not unwelcome."

Miranda leaned in, curious. Miranda's appearance was distractingly enticing, in a way. Her eyes were such a deep blue— they almost looked purple —and her fair skin was utterly unmarked. Leliana had seen many women over the years who had left many a minstrel with a new song in mind. Miranda was the opposite. Rather than inspiring ballads, she seemed as if she could have been torn from the pages of one. It was almost uncanny.

"What makes you want to work with Cerberus?" Miranda asked, drawing Leliana out of her thoughts.

"You have purely human interests in mind, and tackle many unique and unusual cases." Leliana replied, maintaining her stare. "Not that I lack faith in the Commander, but I believe that Cerberus may be able to help with my unique circumstances in a manner that Commander Shepard is unable to, and that they may be more inclined to do so if I volunteer myself." 

Miranda steepled her fingers and nodded slowly. "Cerberus is not uncharitable. We are concerned with all of humanity, but sometimes our most unique or unusual can be both our most vulnerable, as much as they can be our most promising." 

She certainly was interested. Cerberus clearly must have been eager to have more loyal members on board. Perhaps they felt insecure with the individuality of this cell? Leliana couldn't say. But Miranda seemed to be buying it.

"Do you mind telling me about your circumstances? It would be helpful to know just what we are getting into." Miranda said, reactivating her holographic terminal. 

Of course she would ask that. Leliana had no intention of telling anyone below the top and so had an excuse ready this time around.

"Perhaps in some time." Leliana replied, a touch somber. "My favour would not be small, and I believe it may be best to pay it forward, so to speak."

Miranda only nodded in response, averting her eyes. It seemed that she had some sympathy for Leliana's vague situation and was thinking about how to handle it. Miranda finally rendered a decision. "I'll send your details in and see what can be done. You should be hearing from me shortly."

"Thank you, I won't squander the opportunity." Leliana said. And she meant every word. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, in Thedas. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter today, and only a day late this time! We're getting better at this schedule thing.

Five days had past by the time Leigh managed to return to the site of the cave-in, with a few able-bodied villagers to help shift the rock. Even with their help, It took several hours to create a small opening. Leigh looked through it, a torch in her hand and dread settled deep in her chest. Sister Leliana wasn't there. She hadn't waited, had gone further in as she had said she would, ignoring Leigh's entreaties to stay put. The torchlight flickered, glinting off shards of glass from the broken lantern Leliana had carried. Leigh knew, at least, that she was in the right place.

She handed the torch to one of the villagers she'd recruited – the opening would be too small to crawl through with the torch in hand. The villager in question, a tall young farmhand whose name escaped her, accepted it with a worried expression. “You'll be all right from here then, miss?” he asked, shifting uneasily.

Leigh didn't blame him. The Deep Roads had that effect on people. “Yes, I'll be fine,” she replied with a confidence she didn't feel. “You folks should go on home, you can make good time before it gets too dark.”

It was now or never. Leigh squeezed herself headfirst through the rock, coming down heavily on her hands and knees on the other side. She stood up, and accepted the torch from the farmhand. “Good luck, miss,” he said, and then he and his fellows were gone.

Leigh surveyed the area. She would need luck – the caves were all trackless stone, without so much as a film of dust to take a footprint. Sister Leliana could be anywhere. And that she had not returned to the cave-in site. . . she had to be lost or injured. Or both. For now the there was only one clear path, but it surely branched as it wound further along. Leigh had torches, enough to last her the rest of the day, and a long rope, one end of which she tied to a convenient rock— it would help no one if she became lost as well. Leigh stared into the dark, yawning passage before her and was unable to suppress a shudder. Maker willing, she would find Sister Leliana soon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the importance of tea and gun safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the late update! Life gets in the way. Also, I'm afraid to say it may be a little while before we have a chance to update again -- the whole fic is planned, and quite a lot of it is already written, but the next chapter here is being a little difficult. We haven't had much time to work on it recently, so it may have to wait until things in real life have settled down a bit. So sorry about that, but we'll do our best to be back as soon as we can!

The mess was more crowded than usual when Leliana arrived for her first meal of the day. Perhaps she had managed to adapt to the ship's day, and actually awoken at what might be considered morning. Although, without the sun to rise, birdsong to waft through the trees, or the gentle sounds of the world beginning to stir, it could hardly be called morning. 

Leliana selected some kind of pastry at random and filled her cup with a dark beverage that claimed to be tea. Luckily it was not so crowded that she could not find a secluded place to sit. She was in no mood to mingle.

The tea was cold, not just lukewarm but actually chilled, and managed to be at once too bitter and oversweet. There truly seemed to be no limit to what the technology of this world could accomplish. Leliana set the tea to one side. She had gathered several extranet articles she thought would be useful, but she could hardly bear to look at the pallid light of the display. Just simple, clear sunlight, that was all she wanted. Perhaps a breeze. She could even be glad for rain, pattering lightly against a window, and grey light filtering through drop-dappled windowpanes.

Leliana smiled wryly to herself. Imagine, being homesick for weather. She would simply have to adapt, and no amount of moping would accomplish that. She bent her head to the article again, and attempted another sip of the tea, which, sadly, was not much improved with time.

“Iced tea with no ice? Interesting choice. You must like drinking lukewarm rainwater.”

Leliana looked up as Miranda slid into the seat across from her. “Believe me, lukewarm rainwater would be an improvement,” she said with the utmost sincerity. “As you can see, I'm still finding my way around.”

Miranda gave her a somewhat ironic smile. “I can see that,” she said. That was, perhaps, meant as an insult, but Leliana decided not to take it personally. “Regarding your questions the other day, I thought these might help.” She set another one of those odd flattened displays down on the table.

“Thank you,” Leliana replied, unhurriedly retrieving the display. “I do appreciate your help.”

“My pleasure.” Miranda stood to go. “I have some things to attend to. Oh, and if it was hot tea you were looking for, by the way, it's over in that alcove on the left.”

Leliana put the display Miranda had given her into her bag, barely glancing at it. Most likely, it would have the information she needed to contact Cerberus. She would look over that later when she had more privacy. In the meantime. . . Leliana looked over to the alcove Miranda had pointed out. Assuming Miranda hadn’t been joking about the tea, Leliana would be willing to forgive all her superiority.

Leliana was still sitting in the mess reading the same article she had attempted to start earlier when the hollow clank of boots on metal announced another intruder. She looked up. It was was none other than the Commander, armored, helmet under her plated arm. 

Long practice kept Leliana's face neutral, but her mind was racing. It had been only a few hours since her meeting with Miranda. Could Shepard have somehow discovered her? Leliana had been careful, and Miranda presumably even more so, but operations of this sort were always most precarious in their early stages. Whatever the case, she would find out soon enough.

Shepard’s alien companion, clad in blue, stalked close behind. Leliana had not seen him much, but he never was without armour, and never ceased to seem menacing. They had never exchanged a word. She couldn’t help but clench her fists to suppress the shudder she felt whenever she saw him. Only when the alien passed by the table did Leliana’s vicegrip loosen. The hairs on the back of her neck did not go down, however, even when Shepard began speaking to her.

“Not holing yourself up in your room anymore, then?” Shepard barged ahead without waiting for an answer. “Good. I need you down in the shuttle bay later. I have a few more things to take care of first; I'll meet you there in an hour.”

And with that Shepard was gone. Leliana took a sip of her tea – proper, hot tea, thanks to Miranda – but it was not enough to calm the frantic pace of her thoughts. She had no idea if Shepard had discovered the… arrangement. Shepard had given no indication that she knew. but to appear so soon after the meeting with Miranda, and then issue a demand to meet later for some unspecified purpose? In Orlais, Leliana would be certain of a trap. Here, on the other hand, she found herself woefully unfamiliar with the rules of the game.

The worst thing Leliana could do was go to Miranda. If Shepard _didn't_ already know about her newly-established connection to Cerberus, that could well give her away. And even on a ship the size of the _Normandy_ , Leliana could hardly dodge the meeting, not when she had been summoned personally by the ship’s captain. No, it seemed the only thing to do was face it directly, and try to determine just what Shepard knew and how. Leliana closed her article and stood up. If she was going to meet Shepard at the shuttle bay, she would have to find it first…

The shuttle bay did not prove difficult to find, as it was easily the largest room on the ship. Leliana had to stop and stare for a moment when she stepped inside - she had seen the _Normandy_ from the outside, yes, but she had not quite grasped how truly massive it was. The rest of the ship was split into small rooms and corridors, like honeycomb in a beehive, and it was easy to forget that the whole of the ship was probably large enough to house Halamshiral’s entire royal court.

Leliana, however, had little time to continue contemplating the size of the ship, as Shepard strode through the door with a bag slung across her broad shoulders. She was dressed casually, in a form-fitting shirt without sleeves and her work pants. Leliana allowed herself a small moment of relief - it was too soon to relax completely, but at least Shepard hadn’t shown up in armor. 

As the Commander strode in, she called out: “EDI, you can open the Shuttle Bay Door now.”

EDI did so. Leliana looked out on an orange sky, clouds, and ground below them, but she felt no wind from outside. As the door opened further, she noticed a glimmering translucent blue wall in front of them parted the clouds and kept the exterior forces from coming in.

Another voice came in over the intercom. “Commander, I swear, if you get my _new ship_ scuffed up…”

The Commander put down the bag gently, and Leliana heard the items within clacking against one another. It sounded like pieces of wood, perhaps denser. 

Shepard cocked an eyebrow. “ _Our_ ship, Joker. She gets hurt, I’ll fix her myself.” Shepard then remotely turned off the intercom and busied herself with the bag.

Inquisitive, though unwilling to ask directly, Leliana peered over Shepard’s shoulder in order to get a better look at the contents of the bag. Weapons. Two small and two larger. She feared the worst.

“You're probably wondering what I’m bringing a bunch of guns around in a bag for.” Shepard removed both of the small devices. “Well, long story short, a knife probably won't do very much for you when we end up in an emergency. Now, you didn’t have any guns on you when you showed up, so I’m not sure what your preference is. We’ll try out a few of these. This might not be an Alliance warship, but,” she said, offering one gun to Leliana, “I’ll damn well run it as tight as one. I can't always be there to help. I need to make sure you can defend yourself.”

Leliana’s jaw nearly dropped. Shepard had no idea whatsoever about the deal then. If she did, she would not be offering Leliana the chance to be near a weapon that Shepard herself deemed more powerful than the knives Leliana already carried.

Leliana took the gun with a nod and turned it over in her hands. It was odd, like a rectangle with a grip and a crossbow trigger. A bit heavy. She found a small button behind the trigger guard, the word “SAFE” written next to it. She depressed it, and the gun blinked its lights, whirring gently. Shepard reacted instantly, plucking the weapon from Leliana’s hands with a speed that surprised her. 

“Have you used a gun before?” Shepard asked, grave.

A lie would be obvious, and hesitation dangerous. “I’ve never personally trained with one before, no,” Leliana quickly replied.

Shepard just stared. Clearly more explanation was required.

“We didn't have them,” Leliana elaborated with a helpless sort of shrug. “I’m not entirely unfamiliar with the weapon, but I will admit my experience is quite limited, and, ah. . . rather at more of a distance.” It was quite possibly the most poorly-constructed lie she had ever told. She could only hope that the Commander did not press for details. 

“But you are experienced in combat,” Shepard said. 

Leliana couldn't help but smile. “Quite.”

Shepard sighed. “Well, I won’t pry.” Somewhat to Leliana’s astonishment, Shepard handed the weapon back to her. “Keep the safety _on_ , please. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never too late to pick up a new skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Many apologies for the extremely(!) late update. Clearly december was an overly optimistic estimate. From now on we'll be trying to update about once a month, life permitting. Hopefully we can be a little more regular. That said, for anyone still sticking with this little story, welcome back!

Leliana took to the guns quite exceptionally. Even with the sniper, the most notoriously difficult of the group, Leliana shot well, accurately hitting targets 50 or 60 metres away with only a small amount of practice. Shepard might have been reading her wrong, but Leliana even seemed to be enjoying herself. She was becoming a bit more glib, for one.

Leliana ejected a hot thermal clip from the sniper. It clattered to the ground with the soft tinkling of a bell and a slight chemical smell.

“You seem to have a good feel for this.” Shepard handed her the next clip. Although what the hell Leliana had meant by having experience with guns ‘not personally’ and ‘at a distance,’ Shepard had no idea. Some kind of low-tech guerilla tactics, maybe? But why? How could that possibly be effective against anything?

Leliana snapped the clip into place, loaded, and then raised the gun to sight. Shepard noticed Leliana had begun regulating her breathing for these shots. A deep breath in, and she stabilised the gun for the furthest shot yet.

Silence. A loud bang. Shattering glass.

“It's not so different or difficult.” Leliana responded dryly. She vented the clip and extended her hand for another.

Instead, Shepard told EDI to shut the door. The natural orange light from the outside faded and the door shut with a final slam.

“The recoil catch you off guard?” Shepard asked. She remembered the first time she had ever shot a gun, it had. She was just a kid at the time, and the blast from the sawed-off had quite nearly bowled her over. The Reds said it would toughen her up, make her “grow a pair.” They were right in a way; that never happened again.

Leliana shrugged. “A bit.” She lowered and secured the gun before handing it back to Shepard. But Shepard knew the look on her face when she stretched out her arms and rolled her shoulders. She clearly hadn't expected the stress of the recoil. “I am also quite comfortable at close combat.” Leliana elaborated.

Shepard nodded. “That can be arranged. Mordin’s got some upgrades that might help you, to that effect. You could go speak to him.” Leliana frowned. Perhaps she resented the suggestion of help? Or was it the helper? Leliana’s discomfort and distrust of the few aliens in the crew hadn’t escaped Shepard’s notice. In her opinion, it was nothing but lack of exposure. But Leliana said nothing, and Shepard was left to wonder. 

She folded the gun and hauled the bag to her shoulder again. “Come with me. We’ll need to get you some armor.”

“Armor?” Leliana repeated in disbelief as they walked into the elevator. “You can’t be serious.”

Shepard only laughed. She was dead serious. She had no idea who Leliana truly was— her past, her history —but she was certainly not a civilian. And in the past, that would be enough reason not to give her even an inch, much less a gun. Who knew who or what she could be working for anyway. She could even be some truly oddball deep cover Cerberus agent (though the Illusive Man’s agents had to be have more slick cover stories than Leliana’s strange excuses, Shepard felt).

But there was more to Leliana than that. Leliana wanted to return somewhere. She was not trusting at all, but her overwhelming desire to go home made her willing to come aboard. Although Leliana clearly felt cornered— even imprisoned, given how little camaraderie she was willing to show, and not to mention the previous “sufficient cause” whatever, which still grated on Shepard whenever she thought about it —Shepard was sure that the more privileges that Leliana had on board, the more likely things were to normalise between them. Enough to settle things well (though Shepard was entirely prepared to be disappointed).

She could understand where Leliana was coming from, in a way. Before Saren, N7, Akuze, or even her enlistment, Shepard had survived on a lack of good faith. It’s what had kept her alive for years— for both that frightful week when she ditched the Reds before leaving for basic and the thousands of days that came before, back when the prospects for her future would have her wind up floating face-down in the East River with no one left to put a name to her face.

Things had changed. Dying once was not the only thing that did it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always time to put new skills to use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, marginally on time for once! Hope you enjoy, and see you in April!

There had been a few more opportunities for target practice before Shepard had announced to Leliana that they were going to take a mission together. She had adapted remarkably quickly without sacrificing her unique skills, and Shepard had taken notice. As Leliana had described herself, she fought tremendously even at close quarters, with an assassin’s precision. Shepard lost about half of the sparring matches that the two engaged in. Equipped with blades and guns, she had no doubt Leliana would be a deadly force on the battlefield— unpredicted by the enemy, she might turn the tide.

That was, if she followed orders. Shepard still had cause to worry— though Leliana had become less taciturn lately, she still did not seem to hold Shepard in much regard. Insubordination would be an easy way to die with a fighting style like hers. Though lately their relationship appeared to be improving, some conversations were still tense, and Leliana remained more aloof and reticent than not.

Shepard had all this in mind when she selected their mission: a raid on a mercenary base. No frills. Less chance for mistakes, but much more for successful coordination. She was confident Leliana would be a good fit and only was left to then decide who else to bring.

Shepard found a counter when she confided in Garrus. He hadn't liked their visitor from the start, and he was not afraid to mention it. Something about her set him off— it wouldn't stop, either. But hearing about the guns was just too much.

"I don't normally question your decisions. Call it a hunch," Garrus told her this time, "but I think she's up to something."

"Well— yeah. Probably." Shepard said. "But don't you think, given the chance—"

"—That she'll fire a round into your back when you least expect it? Yes."

"Not what I was going to say.” Shepard folded her arms. “Not at all. I've given Leliana more than enough chances to already, and nothing’s happened. It’s not on my mind."

"It’s definitely on mine," Garrus said bitingly. "You may be an optimist when it comes down to it, Shepard, but we both know she’s bound to try something. And you have to be ready to take action when she does."

Garrus’ words were sensible, and on some level she even agreed. But Shepard would not be deterred. "Of course I’ll be ready," she said, "I'm not running in blind, Garrus. I won’t hesitate, and I know you won’t either.” Exactly what she had been telling herself. The argument hadn’t entirely silenced her own suspicions, but it had been enough to at least quiet them. “I'm inviting you for that precise reason."

"That’s good of you, but I really don't know if I’m your best option for this mission." He pointed out. "She's even more shifty around non-humans. You must have noticed. I have every time I've passed her in the mess."

"She'll have to get over it, but I know better than anyone it won't happen if the time to never comes. And if she doesn't play nice, I'll kick her out myself." Shepard said plainly. "Her attitude doesn't change the fact that, besides Tali, you're the one person I can absolutely trust to have my back while we’re on the ground. Especially since you think she's after me.”

"…Flattering," Garrus said, his mandibles clicking gently, "If you’re going to sweet-talk me like that… I guess I'll have to come." 

“Good. Glad to hear it.” She said. “I’ll brief you in full tomorrow.”

He went back to his work as Shepard turned to leave. But she heard when he added, quietly, "I just hope you know what you're gambling, Shepard."

Those few words inspired enough worry to keep her awake late into the night.

In the morning, Shepard found Leliana again in the mess, reading in her usual spot, and sat across the table from her. Leliana appeared to be looking at a catalogue for custom armour pieces. That was a good sign.

“Looking at armour?” Shepard asked, “I took the hint. How do you feel about coming for a mission?”

Leliana looked up from her book with a subtle smile. “I was wondering when you might ask me that.” She turned off the tablet and folded her hands, smirking over the table at Shepard. “You don't want to take another chance to even our score, Commander?”

“Last I checked, I had one up on you.” Shepard noted. “Though I can always take someone else if you need more time—”

“—There’s no need.” Leliana cut in. “I’d be much happier to give a demonstration than I would be to spar again.”

“Hah, good attitude.” Shepard replied, standing. “Get ready then. Loadout and briefing at 1500 Standard.”

Once suited, Shepard met Leliana at the door of the armory. Shepard led her in, unlocked the weapons locker, and began digging around for what they needed. Leliana gazed pensively at the illuminated tables covered in ammunition, guns in need of repair, and others currently being outfitted with all manner of upgrades and modifications. The door swung open behind them, and both Leliana and Shepard’s heads snapped to look, like clockwork.

“Hanging out with the only natural redhead left in the galaxy, huh, Shepard?” Jacob, of course— Shepard hardly had needed to look, except to see Leliana raise an eyebrow at him. 

“You can’t possibly be referring to me,” Leliana said with a small smile.

Shepard chuckled under her breath. “Feel free to take a photo.” She said. “I’d recommend at least introducing yourself first though, Taylor.”

She shoved the last gun back in with a grunt while the other two exchanged introductions. Leliana seemed to be loosening up, even asking him what was the big deal with redheads. She knew quite a number of others, back in her homeland, or so she claimed. 

Jacob was skeptical. “That just can't be. The last redhead I heard about died about five years ago, and it's always big tabloid news whenever there’s another.”

“And yet, here I am.” Leliana replied. “Why would I lie about hair, of all things?”

“It's not about lying. It's just that I only know people who like it enough to fake it.” Jacob said. “No offence, Commander.”

“None taken. My hair is all natural anyway.” Shepard grinned. “I mean, the dye’s organic.”

That got a chuckle out of Jacob. “Glad you've got your priorities straight. Good seeing you, Commander.” He saluted, gave a nod towards Leliana, and returned to his post across the room.

Shepard handed the sniper and pistol to Leliana, who dutifully fastened them to her armour. The look of the armour on Leliana was curious— it had been cobbled together using extra parts Shepard had been picking up over the past few months. It was altogether well-streamlined; besides painting, she must have customised or refitted some pieces— rather, must have had some help doing so. That meant Leliana was socialising, then, clearly. With who, Shepard wondered. To her knowledge, EDI had not yet flagged any of Leliana’s behaviour as dangerous; in theory, there was nothing to worry about. —Whatever the answer, she was just happy that Leliana seemed to be getting along better with the crew. It made her own job easier. 

Having taken all she needed, Shepard shut the weapons locker, watching as the automatic locks whirred languidly. Normally she would say that her ship could never have enough guns, but the locker was feeling a bit cramped with all the new heavy weapons in there. She had half a mind to start stashing them in her room. Were it not for the obvious safety hazard, of course (her personal pistol didn't count).

They then went to the briefing room, helmets in hand. Garrus was already there, patiently waiting. His presence garnered no reaction from Leliana, though Shepard almost found that worse than if she had reacted adversely. There was little time to think on it.

“Let's begin.” Shepard opened. “We’ve tracked the source of the fake distress signal that lured in the MSV Corsica to a Blue Suns base on Sanctum. We’re going in, shutting down the distress beacon, and then getting out. This mission is nothing complex. But I want this to be pretty quiet, as much as anything can be. That's why I’m bringing the two of you.”

“What do we know?” Garrus prompted.

“They’re not entirely expecting us, but we will have to remain cautious. We’ve been disrupting their operations enough for them to be on their toes. We have scans of their base, so both entrance and extraction should be easy enough provided that we carry this out smoothly and that no surprises come up.” Silence. Shepard could even hear the click when the hologram changed to display the base scans. Her prior optimism was diminishing by the minute.

“Let’s go over the details.” Shepard said.

✢ ✢ ✢

Almost as soon as she had caught her breath, Leliana was the first to speak:

“So… was that what you would call ‘smooth’?”

Well, the question hadn't been entirely unwarranted.

They did manage to all come out of it alive, and overall the mission was a success; however, it was also much more eventful than they presumed. First, they ran into much more resistance than expected. Shepard had intended to stay behind cover and pick off the heavies one by one from a distance, but then Leliana decided instead to go close quarters with their troopers and blamed it on a comm malfunction when Shepard called her out on the risky strategy. She did rip right through them, but Shepard wasn’t exactly pleased with her show of bullet-saving initiative until later, when they ran into the captain. With his two YMIR mechs. What a nice surprise.

Leliana said, “That was about as smooth as sandpaper.”

Garrus scoffed, “That's generous. I’d say more like a krogan’s backside.”

“Or perhaps a cactus.” Leliana sounded like she was smiling, and as soon as the redhead pulled off her helmet, Shepard could see that indeed she was, a genuine smile that crinkled her clear blue eyes. If she didn't know any better, she might say that Leliana was being _friendly_ with Garrus— Leliana looked so much more relaxed, now not stiff in her new armour, just covered in sweat and dirt and coming down pleasantly from an adrenaline rush of a mission. The look suited her much better, compared to the one of harsh derision Shepard was used to.

Shepard removed her own helmet and attempted to retaliate in kind, still out of breath, “You say that as if I had a plan or something— anyway, I’m glad laying into me is bringing you two together… How about you try keeping your comm on next time?”

Leliana laughed. “You won't be making this my fault, Commander.”

“No,” said Garrus, “but she will remind you endlessly.”

Shepard laughed, “You’ve got that right. While I’m at it I’ll even throw in a free reminder not to cloak right in the line of Garrus’ sniper.” Leliana rolled her eyes. “Roll your eyes all you like, but what gets through your shields one time will snap your neck the next. And you better believe me when I tell you: I might not always land my shots, but Garrus doesn't miss.” Shepard reprimanded.

Garrus fluttered his mandibles, almost as if batting his lashes. Though he attempted humility with a gentle cough under his defense of, “Only when it counts,” it was pretty unconvincing. She elbowed him with a wretched little grin.

“Since we’re on the subject,” Garrus said, eager to deflect further, “how about a little warning next time you decide to blow a fire containment system? I don't mind being kept on my toes, but that explosion was a little close for comfort.”

Leliana smirked. “I suppose I could consider it. As a professional courtesy.”

Shepard snorted. “I think ‘decide’ is a little generous there, Garrus, you should’ve seen the look on her face when it blew.”

“You know I’m now infamous for my generosity, Shepard,” Garrus drily replied.

“Well, I’m not.” Shepard turned back to Leliana, still incensed. “If you don’t watch what you’re shooting at, you might as well be doing the enemies’ job for them. Got that?”

Leliana’s shoulder’s sagged, but she accepted the criticism with a small, meek nod. “Point taken, Commander.”

Feeling a bit guilty for spoiling the good mood in the car, Shepard added more gently, “But these are the details; you did well otherwise.” Leliana looked back at her, a gentle ‘oh’ resting on her cracked lips. “You haven't run with us before, and your tactical experience, I can tell, has not been conventional— still, you handled this like a professional. I’m glad you agreed to come with us.”

“Thank you,” Leliana said— she was smiling much more genuinely today than Shepard had ever seen before. And somehow, it just made her want to smile back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Hope you enjoy!

Leliana wrote her first Cerberus report before she hit the showers. Nothing terribly noteworthy had happened, but even so, she had a knack for exploiting the details and making an inch of progress stretch for miles. In this case, much of what she had to exploit were the subtle, amicable details of the new working relationship she had with Shepard, the camaraderie that the Commander inspired and the loyalty that followed her. But moreover, the report indicated her use as a field agent, her ability to catch such cues even in an adrenaline-fuelled haze. And this choice of mission had been perfect for Leliana— without many bells and whistles, it was bland enough to serve as a baseline of what could be expected of her reports in the future. She would have them looking forward to more.

They had arrived in the middle of the Normandy’s night shift. Leliana would have to wait to submit the memo through Miranda. But she appreciated the peacefulness of the empty showers. For once, she luxuriated a while in the warm water before putting her casual clothes on again. Besides the standard fatigues, Shepard had given her some sort of overly large woolen sweater, which was quite a comfort in the cold, metal halls of the ship. 

As usual, she went to take some tea before bed, a ritual she completed every night to try to curb her restlessness. She found Garrus there, cleaning an incredibly dense black residue off some wire brushes. He wore bright pink three fingered gloves over his hands (which was a sight to behold— Leliana had to restrain her laughter). Not having anything to say, Leliana simply busied herself with her tea, taking the last bag of the chamomile for herself. Satisfied, she was just about to leave, when Garrus called out to her.

“Leliana?” he said, and she turned to look, feeling rather sheepish. Something about his appearance and demeanour still unnerved her; that strange dual voice never failed to send a chill down her back even with the ridiculous gloves. “I know we may not have met when you were at your best but… If it means anything, I’m glad Shepard brought you on. In spite of everything.”

Leliana blinked, bewildered, wondering what could have brought this on and what exactly it was in spite of. “It's been better than I anticipated. I’m glad to be here.” She lied.

“I don't know if anyone else has offered to help you,” Garrus then said, “but if you need anything— help with calibrating guns, tech, or anything else really —feel free to ask me. I’m normally in the main battery, but if I’m not there, I’ll probably be somewhere else on the crew deck.”

Leliana almost felt happy about the offer, until the gears in her mind resumed their turning. She had cut her teeth on the Orlesian Court, had mastered the Game and become one of its most dangerous players. An offer of help from Shepard’s closest companion? She would have to be blind to accept that as simple generosity. Shepard surely would use him to spy on her. 

But it would be in bad taste to reject such an offer, especially one couched in the appearance of amicability. So, Leliana offered a gentle, tired smile. “Thank you,” she replied. “I may well take you up on that, sometime.”

He nodded. “Good, good. Well, I don’t want to keep you. You know where to find me.”

“Of course,” Leliana said. “A pleasant night to you.”

She took her leave and headed back to her room, tea in hand. She would have to think on what exactly to do about Garrus’ unexpected offer, but not now. There would be plenty of time for that in the morning. 

As predicted, there was. The ship passed through a few relays, a series of sickening shifts in acceleration that Leliana could now distinguish. Shepard left for god-knows-where with Garrus and that strange, purple, bow-legged one. It gave ample opportunity for her to steal into Miranda’s office and brandish her report for an expedient delivery.

“How did it go?” Miranda asked when Leliana handed her the datapad. “The Commander is always full of surprises.”

“Perhaps,” Leliana replied, “but the enemy had more in store this time than the Commander. She is very capable, adaptable. I can see why she is so valuable as a leader.”

“Hm.” Miranda transferred the file to her datapad, wiping Leliana’s directly after. “I’m sure everything that we need to know will be in here.” She handed the blank frame back to Leliana. She smiled, shallowly. “That’s all. Thank you.”

And then Leliana left, returning to her quarters. She entertained more conversation with the ship-eye, attempting to gather book recommendations, but it generated little of use. EDI was busy cataloguing and flagging more important processes for the Commander’s attention, not that Leliana would be privy to them under any circumstances. It would seem she was be left with her previous reading materials - a collection of technical manuals and treatises that she had found informative but almost unbearably dull. Leliana sat down and opened the most recent one. Redundant shield technology. She repressed a sigh and resigned herself to an afternoon of technical minutia. 

✢ ✢ ✢

No one would ever suggest that Shepard spent the morning avoiding the messages and paperwork that had been piling up on her terminal. She had things to do, she had a ship to run, and if she prioritized certain important tasks over others that was her prerogative. But the truth was, the busy work really was piling up and the longer she put it off the worse it would be. So, at noon, when she returned from her errands, Shepard made herself a fresh pot of coffee, flicked on her cigarette, and sat down to get to work clearing away the detritus of command.

The best thing, Shepard had always found, was to start from the top. She clicked through a few simple messages, cleared out her spam emails, and was just beginning to think that maybe this time the bulk of it would be similar fluff when she came across the notification from EDI. Flagged surveillance footage, level one. Not even enough to show up on the top of the pile. Shepard opened the file and peered at the automatically generated description. “NO_SURNAME, LELIANA. FLAGS: DEPARTURE FROM ROUTINE.” Shepard leaned back in her chair, not particularly concerned. More likely than not, it was nothing. She’d set up strict surveillance protocols on their newest crewmember, for obvious reasons, but still it stood to reason that she’d get a certain amount of meaningless noise, even with as sophisticated an AI as EDI running the program. Still, any flagged content was something worth checking out. 

She refilled her mug and opened the attached surveillance file. It was barely two minutes long. Leliana appeared in Miranda’s office, handed her something— it seemed to be a datapad —took it back from Miranda, and left. Of course there was no audio, as audio was off-limits in Miranda’s office. At least for Shepard. The Illusive Man, she thought sourly, no doubt had all the access he could possibly want. She, meanwhile, was left to piece together the truth through context and intuition.

What intuition told her was not good. Of course, there were any number of benign explanations, the simplest being that Leliana was up to nothing more underhanded than meeting a new friend. But Shepard did not think so. Sure, she had seen Leliana and Miranda together on occasion, more than she’d seen Leliana with any other given crewmember for that matter, but they never struck her as being anything more than cordial to each other. Leliana did seem to be warming up a bit since she arrived, but Miranda was not exactly known for her friendly and open personality. What’s more, the clip was incredibly short. The two barely spoke, even. It was almost like watching a business transaction.

Shepard took a sip of her coffee, barely tasting it. Everything just had to be another headache, didn’t it? Was Leliana a Cerberus plant? Was she being recruited? Or had she just borrowed a book from Miranda and dropped by her office for a brief chat? Shepard had no patience for these sorts of questions. Cerberus may have brought her back from the dead, but then they stuck her on a ship where her every movement was likely watched, where she never knew exactly how much she could trust the crew to have her back. As far as Shepard was concerned, it cancelled out— she still hated them as much as ever. And now here she was, forced into another of these ridiculous games, dancing around questions that could not be asked. It was enough to drive a person insane.

And, at the heart of it all, it just made no sense. Shepard had met Leliana by pure chance - she couldn’t be a plant, unless Cerberus had known the exact moment when Shepard would be strolling past the Conduit. And why plant an agent with such an instantly suspicious lack of backstory? Why plant an agent on an almost entirely Cerberus-crewed ship at all? Nothing added up, and not just because part of Shepard wanted to disbelieve her own suspicions. She had actually started to like Leliana, prickly as she was. If Miranda— or Cerberus, more correctly —had already sunk fangs into their ‘guest,’ Shepard expected to never have the answer she needed. A plan, a damn good plan, was now the priority. 

Was it possible that Leliana was simply unaware of exactly what Cerberus _was?_ It was more than possible; it was likely. It would hardly have been the largest gap in the Leliana’s knowledge, after all. Shepard resolved to bring it up with her at some point, and soon. But there was still a small mountain’s worth of messages on her terminal. It was past time to get back to work. She sucked down the last cartridge in her pack of cigarettes to watch the smoke swell, change, and melt into the air.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana gets Shepard to come clean about a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! Sorry about the delays, it's been one heck of a time on both of our ends. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and we'll be bringing more regular updates in the coming weeks.

In the middle of examining the dictionary definition for another obscure technical term, a nagging thought jumped into Leliana’s mind:

Was simply killing mercenaries _really_ supposed to be the mission of this entire crew?

Leliana could have thrown the datapad across the room. But instead she just laid back, stared at the ceiling, and suppressed an urge to scream. What was the Normandy’s actual mission? Commander Shepard had never told her. This had to be part of a strategy: it was all so that Leliana could feel included to decrease suspicion, but to ultimately exclude her from matters of real importance. That must have been Shepard’s logic. What was the Commander really doing every time she went out? Where were they, in fact? Somewhere that Leliana knew nothing about, of course, she knew nothing of anywhere they were going— but what was the journey to this unknown place achieving? It was clear that Shepard and her crew were working toward some larger goal. But what? It wasn’t as if she could simply _ask._ Or could she? A blunt, inelegant strategy, but forcing Shepard to acknowledge the question could work to Leliana’s advantage. 

Leliana turned over and face-planted into the pillow, groaning. She felt sick, robbed, stupid. Was she losing her touch? She hadn’t anticipated this. Leliana realised that she had a golden opportunity to confront Shepard about this matter as soon as they had finished the mission— in front of Shepard’s lackey no less —but she had missed it. The only options left now were miserable. She could ask Miranda, but even Shepard’s lies were better than the condescension she would be sure to earn from her Highness, Miss Lawson. She could ask Garrus… no, that would be no better than Shepard alone.

She heard the door open behind her. Maker’s breath, it _had_ to be her, didn't it? Leliana sat up to look. Sure enough, the fire-red Commander herself was at the door, hair damp, a towel around her neck.

“Oh,” Shepard said, “I didn't wake you, did I?”

“I wasn't asleep.” Leliana stonily replied. “Do you need something?”

“No, just making rounds.” Shepard stood across from her, calm and relaxed. “I wanted to see how you were feeling after yesterday.”

“Fine. A bit sore. I had fun.” Leliana, truth be told, did enjoy herself. She had been missing the action for some time, between her captivity presently and at the side of the Divine, there was not much time for a rousing brawl. Though a part of her always did recoil from her own enjoyment, she could not help but embrace her giddiness at the end of a fight. The raw brutality of battle was disgusting and intriguing, it always had been. Leliana had originally picked the bow for distance from what she wrought, but it made no difference. The rush of the fight made her feel seventeen again.

 

“I was a bit harsh after the mission. I thought that I might have discouraged you. Just so you know, a couple of my COs used to give me the same kind of criticism and, well,” Shepard sniffed, then laughed weakly, “one of them died and the other one gave me a command, so fifty percent says you're okay.”

Leliana couldn't help but chuckle a bit. Soldiers and their officers. So much love, or none whatsoever. “I’m not so thin-skinned. A mistake on the battlefield can cost one their life. There's no way you could discourage me, Commander, I understand.”

“Good.” Shepard said, nodding contemplatively. She paused, staring off for a moment with an uneasy expression, as if remembering something unpleasant. She then began moving to leave, remarking, “If that's all, I should go. I’ve got plenty to do before the night shift comes.”

“Shepard— wait.” Leliana interjected. The Commander, who had nearly arrived at the door, turned to look, surprised. Leliana later realised why: it was the first time she had called the Commander by name. At such an odd time too, when she had nearly forgotten what she had so wanted to ask. 

“Yes?”

“There was one thing.” Leliana moved to the edge of her cot. “Can you explain something to me?”

“Sure. What is it?” Shepard seemed wary, if not intrigued.

“You, The Normandy… what is your mission?”

Shepard was glued to the spot. “What do you mean?”

Leliana gestured around them. “All of this… you aren't just hunting down mercenary groups. Not with the best weapons and armour that money can buy, and a private ship with 200 or more crew members. That is impossible. What is your true mission?”

At first, the Commander appeared stunned. Then embarrassed. Shepard pinched the uneven bridge of her nose, eyes shut, and heaved a weary sigh. She said something so quickly and quietly under her breath that Leliana barely understood any of it, except the last few words: “…did I seriously not… shit.” She ran her fingers back through her hair with the harried look of one who arrived at a store just as it had closed for the night, considering alternatives.

Shepard shook her head and straddled the single chair in the room, dangling her clasped hands over the back. “It's a long story. How do I put this…” She said. “I meant to tell you much sooner. Between everything, I guess I forgot.” Leliana found it hard to tell whether Shepard was playing her for a fool with this line of apology. Shepard hunched over with her bitter expression was the very picture of remorse. If this was an act, it was a good one. But then, Leliana knew quite the number of good actors. 

“Two years ago, _The Normandy_ was destroyed by an unknown vessel while searching for three missing Alliance ships in the outer rim.” Shepard explained. “We are now investigating a new, developing crisis, and found that the same group has also been responsible for the abduction of entire human colonies in the Terminus systems. At the very least, a few million lives are in direct jeopardy because of their actions, if not more.”

“Just one ship? How do they bring a whole colony onto a single ship?” Leliana asked, skeptical. “And who are they?”

Shepard nodded absently, brows in a hard line. “The ones responsible are a race commonly called the ‘Collectors.’ Until we witnessed them on Horizon, I thought they were just some kind of urban legend. —It's unclear if there are multiple ships at large or just one. We do know, however, that they have a homeworld.” 

Shepard activated her omnitool, and brought up a miniature map of the interconnected web of mass relays. Leliana leaned in to see where she pointed. “Normally that would be good news, but it’s beyond the Omega-4 Relay. The odds are suicidal: we don't know exactly where the relay goes, and no ship has ever returned from the journey through it.” Her expression tensed, the glowing scar on her brow splitting like an open wound. “I’m putting everything towards making sure that we survive and return… but it’s not a guarantee.”

The Commander could just as well have proclaimed that she intended to crown herself empress of Orlais. Every word sounded like far-fetched at best, lunatic at worst. Whole settlements, abducted? Then again, anything could happen in this world. Whether this ‘Collector’ story was true or not, Leliana almost respected the deception concerning the fatal risks of this mission. Shepard didn’t say a word about Leliana’s continued reticence on where she came from, but she didn’t have to. The implication was clear enough: _Tell me what I want, or be trapped here with the rest of us_. But there was no way it could be true. Would someone like Miranda willingly place herself on the ship of the doomed? Unlikely.

“What is Cerberus’ stake in this?” Leliana decided to ask.

“Cerberus, well…” Shepard shook her head. “I didn't choose to work with them, and if given the choice, I wouldn't. The Illusive Man believes that he knows what is best for humanity, and nominally, Cerberus pursues that. If you ask me, his ego’s inflated to dangerous levels.”

“You were in the Alliance. Why the change?”

“It isn't anything deeper than a coat of paint. Like I said, the choice to partner with Cerberus wasn’t mine.” Shepard reiterated with no effort to hide her derision. She explained, “You might say I’m indebted to them, though I’d say I’m indentured. It's because of what happened when the original _Normandy_ was destroyed. I was about to get in the escape pod when the Collector ship came around for another pass, and I was thrown into space. I might have made it, but my oxygen system was damaged in the process. I was dead well before my body ever began to burn through the atmosphere.” 

“There were many rumours surrounding the incident, as I understand,” Leliana prompted. Shepard nodded languidly, so much so that Leliana was almost unsure if the Commander was actually listening. Shepard suddenly had drifted a thousand miles away. She continued, encouraging, “But it's impossible to cheat death. And if there were a way, then wouldn't everyone? How did this happen?”

The Commander sat straight, but only looked down at her tightly clasped hands, jaw tense. “Not everyone could. It took time, skill, and money, probably more than I’ll ever know. From what I understand, it was the Alliance who recovered my body. But somehow, Cerberus managed to get their hands on it, on me, and restored me specifically for this mission. The Illusive Man seems to think I’m the only one who can do it without failing.”

“And do you agree?”

“Cerberus only needed me alive because of my expertise. The Illusive Man only wants to manipulate those around him and further whatever his true ends are. To say I’m the only one, or some ‘symbol’ or something, is his attempt to use my ego. I won't fall for it.” 

A dark tone. Conspiratorial. Sweat beaded on her neck when Shepard then glared at her. Leliana could swear she saw a red glint shine from within the Commander's eyes, like that of one possessed. Did Shepard suspect her? She had to. That sort of pointed half-accusation never came without cause. But was it a warning or a threat? 

The Commander cracked her knuckles. “There is one thing we agree on though.” 

Leliana felt her eyes go wide. There was something unnerving about Shepard’s scarred, glowering face, her grim focus— Leliana could not discount this as simple grandstanding, for all she wished she could.

“And what's that?” Leliana said, as she swore she could feel her heart jump into her mouth.

“The Collectors have to die, and they better know why. You want someone to die, well, anyone can hold a gun— but if you want payback, you get a survivor to do it. We hit back twice as hard.” Her grin stretched from ear to ear. Leliana couldn't help but agree.

Shepard checked the time, and stood. “Good talk, but I should go. If you have anything else to ask, let me know.”

The Commander made her way to the door and was gone once again. Leliana took a deep breath. It was possible that Shepard was lying, that this was all part of an act, but somehow Leliana couldn’t believe that. Shepard was an open book: her tone was certainly stirring, but more importantly, she hid nothing when asked. There was no way to confirm whether the account was truthful, but that was always true of information freely given. When it came to the whole, intractable truth, she was left to sift amidst threats, admonitions, and lies.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a quick interlude while you're all waiting.

There was a light. A different light. It took Callum some thought to reach that conclusion, as he had seen nothing like it in a small eternity, aside from _that_ light, the cold, blue one that made his teeth ache when he got close. But _this_ light wasn't at all like _that_ one. It was weaker, and warmer. It bobbed towards him through the darkness. Callum watched, transfixed, as details emerged from the blackness. Rock spires twisting up out of the floor and down from the ceiling; the obsidian gleam of water, slick and black as blood; shadows dancing madly from shape to impossible shape. Callum could see his own hands, he realized with a jolt. They were dirty.

The light moved closer and he shut his eyes, unable to stand the brightness and unable to flee back into the dark. It was only then he heard the footsteps. Of course, someone would have to carry the light. He had almost forgotten.

“Callum?”

His own name, spoken out loud. It shook something inside him and tears welled up in his eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it's me.”

“Callum, how long have you been here? Have you seen Sister Leliana?”

He opened his eyes. The voice had a face, a woman's face with sharp ears and dark skin. And that face, he remembered, had a name. “Leigh?”

She nodded. “I came here with Sister Leliana about a week ago, after we lost contact with you. There was a cave-in. I had to leave, but she has to be here somewhere.”

Callum blinked rapidly. A cave-in. There had been a cave-in, yes. He had forgotten, because of what had happened after. But Leigh had asked a question. “She isn't here.”

“Isn't here? What do you mean?”

Callum swallowed, tried to rally his fractured thoughts. “There was… there is… it's a light. Sister Leliana was here, I saw here going there, but she didn't come back out.”

“What do you mean?” Leigh's voice wasn't loud, but it was urgent. “Maker's breath, Callum, talk sense! Is she dead?”

“She's gone.” Callum said. He shook his head. Leigh had to know, he didn’t want to believe, but he saw. 

“She went into the light and she didn't come back. I—” Callum's voice choked off. He had meant to say “I can show you,” but he abruptly realized he could not. He could not go anywhere near that light, not if his life depended on it.

Leigh gave him a long, suspicious look. “Did you kill her?” she said flatly.

Callum gaped at her. “I— No! No, of course I didn't!” But he had seen her, Sister Leliana, just before she had walked toward that cave with the light, and he had stood rooted in fear, hadn't called out, hadn't stopped her. “I don't think…” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I don't know.”

There came a deep rumbling from somewhere in the cave. Rocks shifting perhaps, or something more foul. Callum saw Leigh's eyes go wide for a moment, and her jaw clenched. “I don't have time for this,” she snapped. “We're leaving, now. You will explain yourself in Val Royeaux.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Sorry as always about the late update, real life has been keeping us busy. We'll do our best to keep posting as often as we can, but things are probably going to be a bit sporadic. Hope you enjoy!

Leliana glanced around the gym for the third time. She had come at the correct time, but the person she was to meet still was nowhere to be seen. It had started with a message from Shepard that morning, instructing her to come to the gym to train with a certain “Kasumi Goto.” Shepard had included scant details, aside from the fact that this person apparently had a fighting style that might be more suitable to Leliana. Leliana re-read the message Kasumi had sent her in reply, after she’d arranged their meeting. “Sounds fun. See you there!” 

Kasumi was late then, Leliana concluded as she scanned the room again. But then she saw it. A small shimmer, barely visible from the corner of her eye. Much like the tactical cloak Shepard had given her. The shimmer approached as Leliana surreptitiously watched. It sidled closer to her, almost within reach.

Leliana continued to stare straight ahead. “You must be Kasumi then,” she said to thin air.

A startled laugh, and the shimmer disappeared, replaced by a human woman wearing a low hood that obscured her eyes. “I suppose I must,” she said, the purple stripe over her lower lip bobbing distractingly. “Leliana, is it? I think I’m going to like you.” 

“I certainly hope so.” Leliana regarded the woman before her. She seemed utterly unlike everyone else she’d met on the Normandy, with their rigid military discipline. “How did you come to work for Shepard? You don’t exactly seem like a soldier.”

Kasumi snorted. “Definitely not.” She smirked, tattooed lip curling. “Hm… Maybe if you win a few matches I’ll tell you.”

Leliana grinned. “Oh, is that all? Well, in that case, I look forward to hearing all about it.”

Leliana’s bravado turned out to be entirely unwarranted. Kasumi was a good match: clever, fast, creative, though much more experienced with the technology of this world than Leliana could ever hope to be. Leliana had the advantage in strength, but Kasumi was more than used to that particular handicap. Leliana counted herself lucky— by the time they finished, she had soundly lost three of their matches, and two had ended in a draw. In spite of being repeatedly trounced by her hooded companion, she was slowly gaining a better idea of how to use the cloak in close-quarters combat. And Kasumi was marvelously good company.

“Well, that _was_ fun,” Kasumi said as they headed for the showers. “Keep it up and you might even win sometime.”

Leliana sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to, if I ever want to find out how you ended up on the Normandy.”

“Oh, but that’s a good story; it’s worth working for,” Kasumi replied. “Join me in the mess? I’ve got loads more where that one comes from.”

Leliana amicably agreed, and soon she was sitting across from Kasumi, who was regaling her with an unlikely tale of how she had stolen a priceless painting from the collection of a corrupt politician. Details of the story aside, Kasumi’s claim to being a professional thief was entirely believable. What Shepard could want with such a person was less clear, although Kasumi’s combat skill alone was probably enough to warrant her recruitment.

“And what about you, then?” Kasumi said at last. “The whole ship’s heard how you practically fell in Shepard’s lap on the Citadel. What were you doing before that?”

A question Leliana did not care to answer. “I was a storyteller,” she said without elaboration.

Kasumi gave her a long, skeptical look. “You’ve got a lot of scars for a storyteller. People must have really hated your stories.”

Leliana quirked an eyebrow at her. “Peeking in the shower, were we?”

“Would you really blame me if I was?” Kasumi giggled.

“Naturally not,” Leliana replied primly. “As you said yourself, a thief must have a natural eye for art.”

Kasumi then laughed. “Don’t get too full of yourself. You’re cute, but you’re not _that_ cute.”

The topic of her past safely dropped, Leliana didn’t mind the good-natured ribbing. Time to change the subject. “So, you can’t have known Shepard for very long, then.”

“Not very long, no,” Kasumi replied. “But then no one here has. Not counting Tali and Garrus. And Joker, of course.”

“They were all in her crew before?”

“Yes, on the old Normandy, back when she was Alliance. She died apparently, being a big damn hero as usual. You could ask Joker about that.” Kasumi laughed gently, although Leliana couldn't grasp why.

“Is it true, then?” Leliana pressed. “She really did die?”

Kasumi shrugged. “I believe it. Miranda spent two years putting her back together, and here she is. Spooky.” 

That was news to Leliana. “Miranda did it?”

“Miranda, a whole team of scientists with cutting edge facilities, and a truly astronomical amount of money.” Kasumi sighed wistfully. “Even I’ve never seen that much money in one place. And I’ve seen a _lot_. —But it was all for a good cause.”

“Cerberus hasn’t always been a champion of good causes, from what I’ve heard,” Leliana said. A tentative probe. Kasumi was likely the closest she would get to an unbiased opinion.

“From Shepard, I’d guess? She isn’t wrong.” Kasumi acknowledged. “Cerberus has gotten up to some shady stuff in the past. They’ve done some good in the galaxy too.” She lazily drew her finger along the table, tracing a scratch in the even metal. “Lots of true believers in this bunch, once you get away from Shepard and her people. It makes me nervous. Get enough people who believe in something too much, and you’re dangerously close to having a religion.”

“Belief isn’t always a bad thing,” Leliana demurred.

“Sure,” Kasumi agreed, “but for a group like Cerberus, it’s a resource… And they can use it pretty much however they want.”

Leliana privately had to agree the notion was unsettling. “Do they have a habit of being… unscrupulous in their use of resources?”

“Unscrupulous,” Kasumi repeated. “That’s a wonderful word. And sometimes, yes. Why?” she asked with a suddenly perceptive glance. Leliana caught the faintest blue light of the thief’s visor beneath her hood. “Were you thinking of joining?”

“No,” Leliana said firmly, “I value my independence.” It was a sentiment she suspected Kasumi shared – which would make the lie all the more believable. “To tell the truth, just getting used to being on a ship like this has been a bit difficult.”

“I know what you mean,” Kasumi agreed. Leliana briefly reflected that she probably did not. “There are people everywhere! I can’t remember the last time I had to share a bathroom. At least Gardner’s cooking’s gotten better.” She poked morosely at today’s offering, pasta in a thick red sauce. “I think he’s added a little too much vodka to this, though.

Leliana blinked uncomprehendingly. “Vodka?” She’d been adding a small dictionary’s worth of new terms to her lexicon with every passing day, but this was one she hadn’t yet come across.

“Yeah, you can almost taste the alcohol. Little more and the whole crew would be stumbling around like—“ Kasumi broke off suddenly. “Wait a minute.” She grinned. “You didn’t actually know what that was, did you? Do they not have booze on your planet? Are you on the run from the Mormons or something?”

Leliana rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “No, we’re just quite remote. Things don’t always have the same names.” Given the reaction her first question had gotten, Leliana decided she could look up exactly what Mormons were later.

“Huh.” Kasumi gave her a long, appraising look, but thankfully asked no more questions. “Well, if you ever need to brush up on the standard galactic alcoholic vocabulary, stop by my quarters sometime. Shepard let me set up an entire bar.” Kasumi set down her fork, apparently giving up on the pasta, and stood up. “Anyway. See you around.”

Leliana stayed, slowly finishing her meal. She would enjoy training with Kasumi, she thought. Perhaps she would even take her up on her offer. But caution was critical. Kasumi was whip-smart, and Leliana would bet she knew more than she let on. True, she didn’t seem to be playing any particular side in this. But such players were always the most dangerous.

Leliana would keep her guard up, she decided, and play the situation as circumstance demanded. At best, Kasumi could be a good source of information, even an ally. A friend, perhaps. In all of those areas, Leliana remained in woefully short supply. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, and it's a long one! Do note the rating change and warning for violence. That should apply for just this chapter, but we'll be sure to leave a note at the top if/when it ever becomes relevant again. See you next time!

That Miranda had a sister came as a great surprise, although Leliana could not quite explain why. With all her steely poise, Miranda hardly seemed the type to have family. Or rather, she hardly seemed the type to allow family— or any personal matter —to affect her single-minded pursuit of her own goals. And yet here they were: herself, Miranda, and of course Shepard. They were in some place Shepard had called Illium, in a sort of local tavern with Miranda's Asari contact.

It was strange, that so far from home, wearing unfamiliar armor and holding weapons she barely understood, Leliana was so forcefully reminded of the Blight. Those desperate, unreal years now sometimes seemed almost like a dream. And Tabris too, at the time the only fixed point in a world of chaos, was so far from Leliana’s thoughts that even the deep wound of her eternal loss now was like a dream. Leliana glanced sideways at Shepard, who was still talking with Miranda and her contact, Lanteia, hashing out how they would go about securing the safety of this young woman none of them, save Miranda, had ever met. And then again, perhaps Leliana's reminiscing was not so strange.

The contact’s information exhausted, Leliana followed Shepard and Miranda out of the bar. They would be dealing with unexpected mercenaries it seemed, of some company called Eclipse, to act as a distraction while one of Miranda’s people got her sister to safety. The plan was simple enough, but Leliana could think of any number of ways it could go wrong. Undoubtedly, Miranda and Shepard could as well.

They took a car to intercept the mercenaries, much to Leliana’s dismay. The larger flying vehicles she had gotten used to, and even the elevators were manageable now. The smaller cars were less so. Hopefully the ride would be smooth. She found herself fidgeting with the knife she’d strapped to her forearm. It was a crude solution that she had rigged— Miranda had quite pointedly raised an eyebrow as they were leaving —but Leliana felt better carrying at least one weapon with which she was _completely_ familiar.

“Damn it!”

Leliana looked up sharply at the sound of Miranda’s voice, and saw a larger craft dip swiftly past them.

“Eclipse mercenary gunships,” Miranda explained grimly. “They’ll be dropping troops in the cargo area.”

Leliana tightened her grip on her weapon and said nothing. So much for a smooth ride.

Following Shepard’s instructions to find them some cover, Miranda jerked the craft over the mercenaries, and then dove behind them. They landed with a jolt Leliana felt in her teeth. She scrambled out of the car, a few paces behind Shepard and Miranda. The mercenaries outnumbered them badly, and Leliana couldn’t gauge the quality of their weapons and armor. Shepard, at least, would know what she was getting them into. The thought was more comforting than Leliana expected.

Miranda was already walking toward the mercenaries, firm and confident as usual. “Since you’re not firing yet, I trust you know who I am,” she said.

It would end in a firefight, Leliana was sure. These weren’t men to be talked down, and this conversation was only a delaying tactic. Still she waited, trying not to fiddle with the trigger of her weapon while Shepard talked interminably with the mercenaries. Shepard was looking for information, that much was certain, and while Leliana of all people understood the value of doing so, she could see the mercenaries behind their leader slipping into cover and readying their weapons. The longer they waited, the harder this fight would be to win.

Shepard must have come to the same conclusion. “You’re not getting Miranda’s sister,” she said.

The mercenary leader smirked, and smugly told Shepard that his men had been preparing for a fight, as if any idiot couldn’t see that. “When I say the word, we unleash hell on your squad,” he said. “So I suggest–”

The rest of his words were cut off by a sharp bang of pistol fire. The man groaned and fell to the ground, and Shepard stepped forward with her smoking gun in hand. Without hesitation, the Commander shot down a large container on the other side of the room, the resulting explosion shaking the ground. _Finally,_ Leliana thought. Shots erupted around them. Leliana switched on her cloak and dove into the fray.

It was brief, and bloody. Minutes, perhaps less than ten – the mercenaries were dead, and Shepard was on the move again. Leliana barely remembered to switch off the cloak when she hurried to join Shepard and Miranda as they moved stealthily through the cargo area.

“I thought you told me Oriana was your twin,” Shepard was saying to Miranda. Her tone was not harsh, but the words stopped just short of an accusation.

“Shepard, I think I owe you an explanation,” Miranda said. Clearly she heard that warning in Shepard’s words as well. “Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father…” She hesitated, seeming to search for the right word. “My father ‘grew’ her when I was a teenager. He wanted another shot at raising the perfect child, I suppose.”

Leliana frowned, trying to parse the meaning. “So she’s more than a decade younger than you, in fact?”

“By about fifteen years, yes.” There was a flash of annoyance in Miranda’s voice. “She was meant to replace me. I couldn’t let my father do to her what he did to me, so I rescued her.”

Under her helmet, Leliana could only imagine the kind of look Shepard was fixing on Miranda. “You could have mentioned we were saving a kid.” She said, deceptively mild.

“She's not a _child_ , she'll be 19 this year.” Miranda responded, indignant, then continued more apologetically, “But… well, it didn't seem relevant at the time. There are people who would use her against me. You must understand: I'm very protective when it comes to Oriana. I'm sorry I didn't trust you sooner. You deserved to know.”

Shepard waved the apology off with a small sigh. “It's fine; at least you said something now. We better hurry now that they know we’re coming. —How do you think your father heard about this?” Shepard said as she scanned ahead through the scope of her sniper rifle.

“How, I don't know. The only person who knows the details of the switch is Niket, and he would never double-cross me.” Miranda furrowed her thinly plucked brows.

“And _what_ makes you so sure?” asked Shepard. Leliana had been wondering the same thing.

“Niket's one of the few people who understand what my father is really like. I trusted him with my life when I ran from my father, Shepard. He's the only one from that time who I didn't cut ties with.” Miranda answered easily, with her usual confidence. “There is no way he would betray me now.”

Leliana (somehow) doubted that. Trust one person with too much, and they become your opponent’s quickest avenue to victory. But at the moment, Miranda didn’t have the look of someone who could be made to see sense, so Leliana kept her suspicions to herself.

If Shepard’s thoughts were running along similar lines, she must have made the same decision. “All right, well, regardless, we have to keep moving.” she said, folding up her rifle.

They tore through another group of mercenaries like butter, Leliana making precision shots from afar while Miranda and Shepard did the heavy lifting. When all was done, they found some type of receiver crackling on the ground close to one of the bodies. Miranda stopped to pick it up as they moved toward the elevator. She seemed focused, intent on listening through the damaged crackle. Then she became visibly alarmed. “Niket?!” Leliana jumped, caught off guard. Miranda shot a worried look at Shepard. “It can't be.”

The elevator arrived and Leliana stood well away from the two of them. Shepard tried to reason with Miranda. Leliana couldn’t hear what the Commander said, but she recognized the tone well enough— level-headed and direct. Miranda’s behaviour was becoming increasingly erratic, uncharacteristic. Her desperation was almost palpable. But Shepard remained steady, a rock in the midst of a storm, advising Miranda to keep her cool until they knew for certain.

The Commander seemed to have this natural effect on people, a certain draw, that others would believe what she said and what hope she could give them even if they knew it to be a false one. She spoke as if from experience, always, but with a consideration the high and mighty would not give. Some would chalk it up to charisma. Leliana believed otherwise. Shepard was noble. Noble in the way of a battle-forged, learned skill, not the way taught by rote chivalric formality. Leliana held a certain respect for it.

They moved swiftly through the processing yard at first. Shepard gave Leliana a long look for bursting a container across the belt that flung shrapnel far enough to damage their shields, but Leliana paid it no mind. She was enjoying herself, revelling in the noise and fury of it all. Then the last of their mercenary opponents fell and the world settled gently back into place around them. 

Miranda had found some message on one of the mercs that confirmed it. Nicket was a traitor. Miranda seemed shocked, senseless for a while. Leliana saw her hands shaking at the grip of the gun. But by the time they moved on towards the final landing area, Miranda was no longer afraid of what she might have to do. She seemed to have come up with a firm idea of just how he would pay. 

Leliana barely noticed when the subtle motion of the elevator halted with a small jolt. The doors opened and they stepped out. Not twenty feet away stood a man and two asari. Leliana felt her attention instantly drawn to the asari in the middle. She sat on a crate, hands on her knees, regarding the scene before her with an air of haughty impatience. The mercenary captain, Leliana would guess.

It was the man who took the first step forward. “Mirri,” he said. He was staring at Miranda, as if everyone else in the room had for a moment ceased to exist.

The asari captain hopped down from her perch and drew her weapon in one smooth motion. “This should be fun,” she said. The other asari tried to run, only to meet a quick end in a burst of fire from the mercenary’s gun. In the asari’s casual ruthlessness, Leliana was forcibly reminded of Marjolaine. She kept her face neutral and her finger on the trigger guard. This wasn’t her stage, and there were more important matters at hand.

“Niket.” Miranda said the name as if were a gauntlet falling to the ground. “You sold me out.”

“Miranda,” Shepard said in a low voice. A warning maybe, or a reminder.

“You were my friend,” Miranda spat, and for a moment Leliana thought she would shoot him on the spot. But Niket started talking, and it all came out. He made a credible attempt - he was concerned for the family, he said, betrayed by Miranda’s lack of trust. It was a smart move, trying to paint Miranda as the aggressor when she was clearly upset and off-balance, but Leliana doubted he had ever truly known Miranda if he thought that was going to work.

It was Shepard who asked the most pertinent question: “How much did Miranda’s father pay you?”

Niket stared back steadily. “A great deal.” That, then, was the heart of it. Even this man, who Miranda had trusted above all, had a price that her father could meet. Perhaps Niket even believed his noble half-truths, but his real motivation was clear.

Shepard didn’t take her eyes off the mercenary captain, but when she spoke it was to Miranda. “Niket’s working for your father, which means he knows about Oriana. We need a new solution.”

Niket lowered his eyes. “Miranda’s father has no information about Oriana. I’m the only one who knows.”

—That was certainly unexpected. Perhaps it wasn’t just money? But whatever his motivation, Leliana was willing to bet Niket had just signed his own death sentence. She didn’t need to know Miranda all that well to understand that.

“Then you’re the only loose end,” Miranda said. The words were cut and dry, matter-of-fact, but still she shook her head, as if she were rejecting the only conclusion to this situation. “This isn’t how I wanted it to end, Niket.”

“Miranda, wait.” Leliana turned, shocked, as Shepard grabbed Miranda roughly by the arm. “You don’t have to kill him. He can talk to your father, tell him we got here first.”

Niket nodded, desperation hidden in his eyes. “I can tell him you hid her. Or—”

A sharp blast cut off whatever he had been going to say, and he crumpled to the ground, wide-eyed. Captain Enyala stepped from behind him. 

“Done,” said the Captain. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a job to finish.”

“You’ll die for that, bitch!”

Miranda’s words hung in the air (or, more accurately, hung Captain Enyala six feet in the air and threw her across the room), but Leliana and Shepard were already on the move. They moved to the far side of the area, along a narrow bridge filled with crates and panes of bulletproof glass overlooking the gaping spaces in the floor. The room didn’t have many good vantage points for sniper fire, so Leliana drew her pistol instead. This was going to be short-range, bloody. Hopefully fast. It would have to be, if they wanted to get out of it alive.

The reinforcements marched in soon after, and bullets shredded at their position. She looked to Shepard, and found the Commander with her head pressed to the crates, staring back through her helmet. Shepard gave her a nod, or so she thought, and then began firing back, pistol drawn. Shepard shot three of them dead centre. Ice spread in creeping, branching paths across the mercenaries’ chests, up, to the neck, through the seams of their armour. Leliana cloaked as they squirmed. Two blades fabricated beyond each of her arms, glowing orange like freshly folded steel, sparking with blue lightning. She struck, they shattered. One more was still too far from her reach— Leliana whirled, gun drawn, and shot him dead with three rounds to the chest and stomach. He fell and burst. 

Leliana ducked behind cover, catching her breath before the next spray of bullets caught up with them. Shepard did not follow her, and soon she saw why. Miranda, in all her rage and Maker-forsaken logic, decided to engage the Captain alone. She was putting up a good fight, but Leliana could tell she was wearing herself out, even from afar. Not to mention, more of the mercenaries were approaching to bolster their leader.

“Miranda, fall back, that’s an order.” Shepard called over the intercom. “Your position is being overrun.” Tick-tock. Miranda didn’t seem to register. 

Leliana grunted, displeased, and removed her sniper rifle, rolling to another piece of cover. She unfolded her sniper to set her sights on one of the troopers, aimed for the head, and fired. It split the helmet like an egg and knocked the soldier off her feet. She swivelled to one approaching Miranda from behind. Tricky shot, but she was confident she’d make it. She tracked him, took her aim, and fired the second round. She watched him stagger, clicking her tongue. Not quite perfect, but at least it cleared the way for Miranda to get moving. 

Leliana popped the heat sink and was about to replace it when Shepard shouted to her over the intercom—

“ _Leliana, behind you—!_ ”

Leliana snapped around. Her blades hadn’t recharged, but this _fool_ of a man with a gun to her head cackled briefly enough to give her an opening. Leliana pushed the pistol away from her head with enough force that he fired in surprise. Her ears rang as she drew the steel blade strapped to her arm, knocked his head back as she pushed him to the ground. She dove for his throat. The knife found purchase in the hollow just above his collar bones, he gurgled and choked behind the mask. She twisted the edge around, slashed through his trachea, and removed her blade. Leliana wiped the blood on the mercenary’s padded undersuit and replaced the knife in its scabbard.

“ _Holy shit_.” Miranda whispered, as she and Shepard joined Leliana’s position.

“Well, now I’m glad I know what that’s for,” mused the Commander.

“Five more incoming, the Captain behind them.” Leliana replied.

Shepard nodded sharply. “Miranda, buy us some time?”

Miranda’s entire body was shrouded in an arcane indigo light. With a cry and an explosive sunder of the air she hurled a blast of glowing energy towards the enemy Captain, who was knocked back several yards by the sheer force. The Captain then ceased advancing, but the soldiers kept pushing, bullets pinging at their cover and whizzing overhead. Leliana could pick out the weapons, assault rifles and submachine guns, churning out an endless spray of destruction.

At the briefest pause, she and Shepard returned fire. They dashed in opposite directions to cover their bridge’s openings, and fired back a volley of bullets. Shepard had better aim and dispatched the two on her side easily, efficiently. Leliana was slower, but managed to down one. The timer beeped gently on her omnitool just as soon as the other two began firing on her position.

Leliana activated her intercom. “Commander, I’m going dark. Cover me?”

“Affirmative.” Friendly shots came from the other side of the room. She heard one of the mercenaries fall. “Just try to get them before I do.”

Leliana cloaked and dashed to the last soldier. She materialised behind the trooper before pushing her blade through his abdomen, then throwing him over a nearby ledge. 

Only the Captain was left. Miranda was struggling to keep control of the situation. While Leliana and Shepard had not been looking, she had resumed throwing the Captain around like a ragdoll using her strange magic. Now Enyala was getting desperate, barrier and armour broken down. Leliana and Shepard joined their squadmate. Miranda looked exhausted, pale face dripping sweat behind her cover. Shepard gently put her hand on Miranda’s shoulder and spoke too softly to be heard. Miranda nodded numbly and gave a quavering smile. 

Leliana could only watch as Shepard strode out and casually walked across to where Enyala laid in wait. The Commander had her pistol always in hand. Enyala scrambled to her feet, shotgun pointed at Shepard’s chest, trembling. She was shorter than the Commander. And in this moment, looked so much more frail. 

Enyala struggled to say something just before Shepard raised her arm and fired. Right between the alien Captain’s eyes.

A moment, or a few, passed on in pounding silence. Shepard paced back to her two squadmates. She removed her helmet and shoved it into Leliana’s arms before digging through her pockets frantically. The Commander unwrapped the foil from a candy bar and handed it to Miranda.

“Thanks.” Miranda said, voice thin and cracking.

“Don't mention it.” Shepard replied. “It's over now, just try to relax for a minute.

Shepard pulled Miranda up to stand. Miranda tearfully embraced Shepard. And then the three of them walked out together.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's important to take a moment to reflect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy the chapter! Happy Halloween!

They boarded the shuttle, but Shepard remained behind to catch another, citing a few urgent errands. Leliana was left alone with Miranda, sitting together in exhausted silence.

Miranda was staring off into nothing, and when she spoke it wasn't to Leliana. “It's strange. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, I never thought Niket would die. Not like that. Even after Shepard… well, it doesn't matter.”

Leliana regarded her quietly. Miranda had been raised to be perfect, she had said, and most of the time she wore perfection well. But not now. It was subtle – the slump in her shoulders, the faint shadows under her eyes, the slight, agitated tapping of her index finger against her leg. Someone less accustomed to the facade might have paced, thought Leliana. Miranda, of course, did not.

“What would you have done,” Leliana asked after some time, “if Niket had lived?”

Miranda turned to face her. “What do you mean?”

Leliana shrugged guilelessly. “What I said.” But the question wanted context. “When one's trust is betrayed so… personally, it's difficult to simply walk away, to go on living as one did before.” Leliana paused for a moment, accosted by memory. A man, Tabris' knife at his throat, the only survivor of a failed ambush. _Was told it would be an easy job._ _Kill the little red-haired girl._ “Difficult, and dangerous.”

Miranda gave her a measuring look. “You're speaking from experience.”

Leliana didn't challenge the observation, and Miranda gave a short laugh. “What were you, before you fell in Shepard's lap in the Citadel?”

“A storyteller.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

Miranda laughed again, with just as little humor. “With your skills, you must have quite the interesting set of stories.”

Leliana smiled, surprising herself. “Well, a few come to mind.”

Miranda quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Leliana rarely spoke of the many incredible things she had seen at her Warden’s side – those stories drew too much attention. Even the simplest farmhand would begin to question how she heard such a story, and how she spoke of such legendary characters as though she knew them. Here, there was little chance of that, so Leliana told exactly the story that had come into her mind.

“In my home, there are tales of an ancient witch who lives deep in the wilds. Immortal, subtle, and dangerous.” Leliana began. “But this story concerns her daughter. The witch's daughter was also powerful in magic, and was sent by her mother to travel with a hero to help in defeating a great evil that plagued their lands. Along their journey, they came across a book. The witch's daughter recognized it as her mother's grimoire, full of spells that had been forbidden to her throughout her life. So of course she set to studying it immediately.”

Miranda laughed. “Well yes, naturally.”

Miranda might have gotten along well with Morrigan, Leliana thought. As much as anyone could. “As the witch's daughter studied the book, she soon realized why her mother had hidden it from her. There, she discovered the secret to her mother's immortality, and that secret was – her.” Leliana paused, letting the drama of the moment sink in. “When the witch felt her body begin to weaken and grow old, she had a child, always a daughter. She would raise the child as her own, and then, at the moment of her death, transfer her own spirit to her daughter's body.”

“Faced with her own destruction, the witch's daughter turned to the hero for help. They had become close friends, and it was a strange friendship to witness, for the witch's daughter abhorred most people and usually made herself completely impossible to talk to. How the hero managed it, I'll never know.” Leliana coughed, stopping herself before she could go on a tirade about Morrigan’s many less than admirable qualities. “Anyway. The witch's daughter told the hero all she had learned, and asked the hero to kill her mother, the witch.”

Miranda stared. “And the hero agreed?”

“It took some persuading, but yes, the hero agreed.”

Leliana remembered Tabris' head pressed against her chest, one night in camp. _I'll do it, I suppose. The old woman always made my skin crawl anyway._

_And Morrigan doesn't?_ Leliana had said.

Tabris had chuckled. _Now that's unfair. Although I'll grant you, that spider thing of hers. . ._

“So what happened?”

Leliana was jolted back into the present. She had been one of those two people sitting by a campfire at the end of the world once, but now the both of them were long gone.

“The witch’s daughter, though she refused to battle her mother out of fear of possession, showed the hero the way through the treacherous wilds and to the witch’s hut. Then the hero, with three of her brave companions, battled the witch there. What sort of fight they expected, I'll never know, although I doubt they ever suspected the witch could turn into a dragon.”

Miranda scoffed. “—A dragon? Really?”

Leliana shrugged. “So the story goes. It was a difficult battle by all accounts, but finally the witch-dragon lay dead and the hero lived.” Barely. Shale had carried Tabris back into camp, badly burned by dragon fire. Neither Wynne nor Leliana had left Tabris’ side for days. Morrigan had alternated between hovering just outside the tent and disappearing into the trackless wilds. Sometimes she left healing herbs at the entrance of the sick tent. Even at the time Leliana hadn't been sure if she was more annoyed by her presence or her absence.

“The hero lived,” Leliana continued hastily, “and so did the witch's daughter.”

“Well,” Miranda said. She seemed unsure what to do with this ending. In fairness, it was hardly a good one. “The witch's daughter must have been grateful.”

“You would expect so,” Leliana said. “It was always difficult to know what the witch's daughter felt, if she felt anything at all. Some time later, she disappeared, and the hero died. But those are their own stories.”

Miranda seemed about to take her leave, but hesitated for the barest moment. “Was the witch's daughter right to kill her mother, do you think?”

“I think she had no choice,” Leliana replied simply.

They had arrived. Leliana felt the faint jolt as the shuttle docked with the Normandy.

Miranda stood up to go. “Well, thank you for the story.”

“You’re welcome,” Leliana barely remembered to say, and Miranda left her alone with her thoughts. It was strange to look back on the Blight, to watch her friends fade from living, breathing people to legends of history. Tabris, of course was the hero – and wasn’t. The hero, sometimes, was someone else, an idea more than a person. Leliana was sure that one day no one would remember any of their names, and all that would be left would be the hero, the witch, the king, the assassin. The bard. But, she forcefully reminded herself, that day was far off, and it would never come while she was alive. While any of them were left alive to remember.

Leliana stood up, shaking her head at herself. When her thoughts turned down that particular path, it was always long past time to sleep.

She went out into the corridor, blinking owlishly. Her mind told her it should be dark, the soft light of evening or dim candlelight, but of course the ship was as brightly lit as always. 

Which made it all the more strange that she didn’t notice the woman slouching near the door until she spoke. “Cheerleader done crying about her sad, sad life, or what?”

Leliana turned sharply toward the voice. “Sorry?” she said. She might have said more had the woman’s appearance not taken her so aback. Rather than the dull, muted uniforms worn by most of the crew, this woman was clothed in almost nothing but ink from her neck to her waist.

“Yeah, like you don’t know. She just walked out of there all fucking distant, I could’ve believed she almost forgot how to be a bitch for half a second.”

It felt as though Leliana’s thoughts were moving through syrup, but gradually the woman’s words slotted into place. “You’re talking about Miranda.”

“Well, I’m definitely not talking about Jacob.” The woman took a half step away from the wall. “So, yeah. Miranda. Are you two best friends now or something? You going to be sitting around braiding each other’s hair and gossiping?”

If she was trying to put Leliana on the defensive, it wasn’t going to work. Leliana smiled, ever polite. “Have we been introduced?”

The woman snorted. “No. Do I look like someone you get introduced to?”

“Maybe we can solve that.” Leliana said, diplomatically offering her hand. “I’m Leliana.”

“As if I don't know who you are,” the tattooed woman said, sneering at the outstretched hand. “Ugh, let’s just cut the bullshit: if you’re with _them_ , you'll stay the _fuck_ out of my way. That's all.” She shoulder-checked Leliana, hard, as she left.

Leliana was still rubbing her arm when a voice came from behind her that made her jump a foot in the air.

“Don't worry about Jack. I don't think you'll be seeing much of each other.”

It was the purple alien, still suspicious looking. But the sound of her voice, translated, was much more pleasant than Leliana had expected, bubbly and lightly accented— almost like a happier version of Cassandra, perhaps, in tone. She could see the creature's eyes behind the helm, glowing through the opaque purple glass. Uncanny.

“…Thanks.” Leliana replied hesitantly.

“Are you though? With Cerberus?” The alien asked, grave.

“No.” Leliana said, always the confident liar. “I was just worried about Miranda; I had the sense that emotions were still running high for her. I hoped I could help.”

“Ah. I see.” The alien offered a three-fingered hand. “In that case, you can consider me a friend. My name is Tali’Zorah nar Rayya. Most of the crew calls me Tali. We met before, but I don't think we started out on the right foot.”

“I remember.” Leliana shook her hand. “It was a confusing day by all accounts. —I’m Leliana.”

“I’ll say. It's good to speak with you.” Tali burbled a bell-like laugh, the glow of her eyes narrowing joyfully. “You looked so confused back then, it’s funny to think about. You seem so capable now.”

“I’m earning my keep; everyone has to, isn't that so?” Leliana couldn't help but smile. “What is it that you do, Tali?”

“Oh, I’m in Engineering.” Tali said. “I was with Shepard on the Normandy when we fought Saren, before, well,” Tali cleared her throat. “Anyway, Shepard and I have run all sorts of missions before. I’m here for her, more than anything else, besides maybe the new drive core.”

Leliana diverted, asked some questions about what Tali’s job was more specifically and if she could get a tour of the engine room. She didn't particularly care to know any of the answers, but she’d always found that appealing to a person’s interests was easiest way to seem friendly without attracting unwarranted suspicion.

“So I suppose you've known Shepard for a long time then?” Leliana asked.

“A few years.” Tali said. “Doctor Chakwas and her friend the Admiral have known her longest, I can't claim that. But Garrus and I have known Shepard for a while.”

Leliana smiled. “It does the Commander credit, to have such loyal friends.” An indirect flattery, and it would give her the chance to gauge Tali’s opinion of Shepard.

“Well, it would be very difficult to fault her leadership, for sure,” Tali said frankly. “Shepard is an expert. Just look at Jack and Miranda; they haven’t killed each other yet, though they nearly did a few days ago though, from what I’ve heard.”

Leliana cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Didn’t you hear about it?” Tali said, and even through the strange rasp of the helmet Leliana could recognize the tones of an inveterate gossip. “Supposedly _,_ they got into a huge fight - shouting, throwing furniture around even, making a mess. Joker had to call Shepard to make them stop, and I heard she ordered them both not to even be on the same deck.”

Leliana cast a wary glance in the direction the tattooed woman had disappeared. “If that’s the case, I guess the order’s been ignored.”

Tali made a sound almost like a snort. “Clearly.”

“But what were they fighting over to begin with?” Leliana pressed.

“Whatever it is they always fight about,” Tali shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t really know. Or at least, it’s not my place to say.”

Leliana nodded. “Of course. I won’t pry.” She would find out eventually, from Tali or someone else, but she certainly wouldn’t force an answer now. With enough bored tongues wagging, she wouldn’t have to. 

“It’s good to know there’s at least one person on this ship willing to stay above all the gossip.” Tali gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “It certainly isn’t me. Not all that much to do in space.” 

“Yes,” Leliana said, “I know what you mean.”

“Right. Well, I should get going. Got to try to get some sleep before the next shift. I’ll see you around.”

“I should as well,” Leliana agreed. “But it was nice talking to you.” And quite informative, at that. That, and if she were to be completely honest, a welcome distraction from the melancholy that had threatened to overwhelm her. Now, alone again, it seeped back in like rain soaking through wool. Heavy, clinging, and cold. 

But here, sleep was the only remedy for such a mood. Leliana returned to her room. But somehow, exhausted as she was, sleep seemed still distant. She sat down on the edge of her bed, lost for a long moment. Then, long habit making the action seem somehow predestined, she went to her knees. If only she had a candle. The Maker was all-powerful, and Leliana knew He did not need the trappings of ritual – the steady glow of a candle, and scented smoke curling up from an altar, and the melodic peal of distant bells. Leliana was human, and she did.

Instead of a candle, she stared ahead at the wall. Smooth grey metal, without a flaw or impurity. It hardly looked real. Everything about the _Normandy_ felt so maddeningly unreal. There was no wind, no movement, no sound – aside from the hollow tap of boots on metal and the hush of stale air whispering through vents. And outside, only the deepest black, blank indifference. A void of reason, knowledge, care. It was a blessing that this room was windowless.

Leliana closed her eyes, tried to rally her weary heart around a verse. “Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken, there 'pon the mountain a voice answered my call.” Andraste's call, answered by the Maker. The next words were His, spoken to his chosen servant. “Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing. An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. You have forgotten, spear-maid of Alammarr: within My creation none are alone.” 

The words came quietly, but her voice didn’t waver. For all the strangeness of this place, all this was within the Maker’s creation, and even worlds away from home, she was not alone.


End file.
